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AT THIS MOMENT MR. ANGELO DASHED UP. 
















Xtbrarie fiction 


THE WORKS OF 

CHARLES READE, D. C. L. 


A Terrible 

Temptation 


<9t 


NEW YORK 

fJDetropolftan jpubifsbinu (Jompang 


1895 


Xibrars SsMtlon 

LIMITED TO ONE THOUSAND SETS, 
OF WHICH THIS IS 

Number___ 


TRANSFER 

B» C, PUBLIC LIBRABT 
SapT. 10,1940 



578301y 


CD 

Csf 

2 

in> 

*■—! 


A TEEEIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER I. 


cn 

Q_ 



... 


The morning-room of a large house in Portman Square, 
London. 

A gentleman in the prime of life stood with his elbow 
on the broad mantel-piece, and made himself agreeable 
to a young lady, seated a little way off, playing at work. 

To the ear he was only conversing ; but his eyes dwelt 
on her with loving admiration all the time. Her posture 
was favorable to this furtive inspection, for she leaned 
her fair head over her work with a pretty, modest, 
demure air, that seemed to say, “ I suspect I am being 
admired : I will not look to see ; I might have to check 
it.” 

The gentleman’s features were ordinary, except his 
brow — that had power in it — but he had the beauty of 
color; his sunburnt features glowed with health, and 
his eye was bright. On the whole rather good-looking 
when he smiled, but ugly when he frowned; for his 
frown was a scowl, and betrayed a remarkable power of 
hating. 

Miss Arabella Bruce was a beauty. She had glorious 
masses of dark red hair, and a dazzling white neck to 
set it off; large dove-like eyes, and a blooming oval face, 
which would have been classical if her lips had been 



4 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION<. 


thin and finely chiselled; but here came in her Anglo- 
Saxon breed, and spared society a Minerva, by giving 
her two full and rosy lips. They made a smallish 
mouth at rest, but parted ever so wide when they smiled, 
and ravished the beholder with long even rows of dazzling 
white teeth. 

Her figure was tall and rather slim, but not at all 
commanding. There are people whose very bodies ex¬ 
press character; and this tall, supple, graceful frame of 
Bella Bruce breathed womanly subservience; so did her 
gestures : she would take up or put down her own scissors 
half-timidly, and look round before threading her needle, 
as if to see whether any soul objected. Her favorite 
word was “ May I ? ” with a stress on the “ May,” and 
she used it where most girls would say “I will,” or 
nothing, and do it. 

Mr. Kichard Bassett was in love with her, and also 
conscious that her fifteen thousand pounds would be a 
fine addition to his present income, which was small, 
though his distant expectations were great. As he had 
known her but one month, and she seemed rather amiable 
than inflammable, he had the prudence to proceed by 
degrees; and that is why, though his eyes gloated on 
her, he merely regaled her with the gossip of the day, 
not worth recording here. But, when he had actually 
taken his hat to go, Bella Bruce put him a question that 
had been on her mind the whole time; for which reason 
she had reserved it to the very last moment. 

“ Is Sir Charles Bassett in town ? ” said she, mighty 
carelessly, but bending a little lower over her embroidery. 

“ Don’t know,” said Bicliard Bassett, with such a 
sudden brevity and asperity that Miss Bruce looked up 
and opened her lovely eyes. Mr. Bichard Bassett replied 
to this mute inquiry. “ We don’t speak.” Then, after 
a pause, “ He has robbed me of my inheritance.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


5 


“ Oh, Mr. Bassett! ” 

“Yes, Miss Bruce, the Bassett and Huntercombe 
estates were mine by right of birth. My father was 
the eldest son, and they were entailed on him. But Sir 
Charles’s father persuaded my old doting grandfather to 
cut off the entail, and settle the estates on him and his 
heirs; and so they robbed me of every acre they could. 
Luckily my little estate of Highmore was settled on my 
mother and her issue, too tight for the villains to undo.” 

These harsh expressions, applied to his own kin, and 
the abruptness and heat they were uttered with, surprised 
and repelled his gentle listener. She shrank a little 
away from him. He observed it. She replied not to 
his words, but to her own thought. 

“ But after all it does seem hard.” She added with a 
little fervor, “But it wasn’t poor Sir Charles’s doing 
after all.” 

“He is content to reap the benefit,” said Richard 
Bassett sternly. 

Then, finding he was making a sorry impression, he 
tried to get away from the subject; I say tried, for till a 
man can double like a hare, he will never get away from 
his hobby. 

“Excuse me,” said he; “I ought never to speak about 
it. Let us talk of something else. You cannot enter 
into my feelings — it makes my blood boil. Oh, Miss 
Bruce ! you can’t conceive what a disinherited man feels 
— and I live at the very door : his old trees, that ought 
to be mine, fling their shadows over my little flower¬ 
beds ; the sixty chimneys of Huntercombe Hall look 
down on my cottage ; his acres of lawn run up to my 
little garden, and nothing but a ha-ha between us.” 

“ It is hard,” said Miss Bruce composedly; not that 
she entered into a hardship of this vulgar sort, but it 
was her nature to soothe and please people. 


6 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Hard! ” cried Richard Bassett, encouraged by even 
this faint sympathy; “ it would be unendurable but for 
one thing — I shall have my own some day.” 

“ I am glad of that,” said the lady; “ but how ? ” 

“ By outliving the wrongful heir.” 

Miss Bruce turned pale. She had little experience of 
men’s passions. “ Oh, Mr. Bassett! ” said she — and 
there was something pure and holy in the look of sorrow 
and alarm she cast on the presumptuous speaker — “ pray 
do not cherish such thoughts. They will do you harm. 
And remember, life and death are not in our hands. 
Besides” — 

“ Well?” 

“ Sir Charles might ” — 

“ Well ? ” 

“ Might he not — marry — and have children ? ” This 
with more hesitation and a deeper blush than appeared 
absolutely necessary. 

“ Oh, there’s no fear of that. Property ill-gotten never 
descends. Charles is a worn-out rake; he was fast at 
Eton — fast at Oxford — fast in London. Why, he looks 
ten years older than I, and he is three years younger. 
He had a fit two years ago. Besides, he is not a 
marrying man. Bassett and Huntercombe will be mine. 
And oh ! Miss Bruce, if ever they are mine ” — 

“ Sir Charles Bassett! ” trumpeted a servant at the 
door; and then waited, prudently, to know whether his 
young lady, whom he had caught blushing so red with 
one gentleman, would be at home to another. 

“Wait a moment,” said Miss Bruce to him. Then, 
discreetly ignoring what Bassett had said last, and lower¬ 
ing her voice almost to a whisper, she said hurriedly, 
“You should not blame him for the faults of others. 
There — I have not been long acquainted with either, 
and am little entitled to inter— But it is such a pity 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


7 


you are not friends. He is very good, I assure you, and 
very nice : let me reconcile you two. May I ? ” 

This well-meant petition was uttered very sweetly, and 
indeed — if I may be permitted — in a way to dissolve 
a bear. 

But this was not a bear, nor anything else that is 
placable; it was a man with a hobby-grievance; so he 
replied in character. 

“ That is impossible, so long as he keeps me out of my 
own.” He had the grace, however, to add, half sullenly, 
“ Excuse me: I feel I have been too vehement.” 

Miss Bruce, thus repelled, answered, rather coldly, 
“ Oh, never mind that; it was very natural. I am at 
home then,” said she to the servant. 

Mr. Bassett took the hint, but turned at the door, and 
said, with no little agitation, “ I was not aware he visits 
you. One word — don’t let his ill-gotten acres make you 
quite forget the disinherited one.” And so he left her, 
with an imploring look. 

She felt red with all this, so she slipped out at another 
door, to cool her cheeks, and imprison a stray curl for 
Sir Charles. 

He strolled into the empty room, with the easy languid 
air of fashion. His features were well cut, and had 
some nobility; but his sickly complexion, and the lines 
under his eyes, told a tale of dissipation. He appeared 
ten years older than he was, and thoroughly blase. 

Yet, when Miss Bruce entered the room with a smile 
and a little blush, he brightened up and looked hand¬ 
some, and greeted her with momentary warmth. 

After the usual inquiries, she asked him if he had met 
anybody ? 

“ Where ? ” 

“ Here ; just now.” 

“No.” 


8 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ What, nobody at all ? ” 

“ Only my sulky cousin; I don’t call him anybody,” 
drawled Sir Charles, who was now relapsing into his 
normal condition of semi-apathy. 

“ Oh,” said Miss Bruce gayly, “ you must expect him 
to be a little cross. It is not so very nice to be dis¬ 
inherited, let me tell you.” 

“ And who has disinherited the fellow ? ” 

“I forget; but you disinherited him amongst you. 
Never mind; it can’t be helped now. When did you 
come back to town ? I didn’t see you at Lady d’Arcy’s 
ball: did I?” 

“ You did not, unfortunately for me; but you would if 
I had known you were to be there. But about Bichard: 
he may tell you what he likes, but he was not disinherited; 
he was bought out. The fact is, his father was uncom¬ 
monly fast. My grandfather paid his debts again and 
again; but at last the old gentleman found he was deal¬ 
ing with the Jews for his reversion. Then there was an 
awful row. It ended in my grandfather outbidding the 
Jews. He bought the reversion of his estate from his 
own son for a large sum of money (he had to raise it by 
mortgages) — then they cut off the entail between them, 
and he entailed the mortgaged estate on his other 
son, and his grandson (that was me), and on my heir- 
at-law. Bichard’s father squandered his thirty thou¬ 
sand pounds before he died; my father husbanded the 
estates, got into Parliament, and they put a tail to his 
name.” 

Sir Charles delivered this version of the facts with a 
languid composure that contrasted deliciously with Bich¬ 
ard’s heat in telling the story his way (to be sure, Sir 
Charles had got Huntercombe and Bassett, and it is 
easier to be philosophical on the right side of the bound¬ 
ary hedge), and wound up with a sort of corollary: 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


9 


“ Dick Bassett suffers by his father’s vices, and I profit 
by mine’s virtues. Where’s the injustice ? ” 

“Nowhere, and the sooner you are reconciled the 
better.” 

Sir Charles demurred. 

“ Oh, I don’t want to quarrel with the fellow; but he 
is a regular thorn in my side, with his little trumpery 
estate, all in broken patches. He shoots my pheasants 
in the unfairest way.” Here the landed proprietor 
showed real irritation, but only for a moment. He 
concluded calmly: “ The fact is, he is not quite a gentle¬ 
man. Fancy his coming and whining to you about our 
family affairs, and then telling you a falsehood! ” 

“No, no ; he did not mean. It was his way of looking 
at things. You can afford to forgive him.” 

“Yes, but not if he sets you against me.” 

“But he cannot do that. The more any one was to 
speak against you, the more I — of course.” 

This admission fired Sir Charles ; he drew nearer, and, 
thanks to his cousin’s interference, spoke the language 
of love more warmly and directly than he had ever done 
before. 

The lady blushed and defended herself feebly. Sir 
Charles grew warmer, and at last elicited from her a timid 
but tender avowal, that made him supremely happy. 

When he left her, this brief ecstasy was succeeded by 
regrets on account of the years he had wasted in follies 
and intrigues. 

He smoked five cigars, and pondered the difference 
between the pure creature who now honored him with 
her virgin affections, and beauties of a different charac¬ 
ter who had played their parts in his luxurious life. 

After profound deliberation, he sent for his solicitor. 
They lighted the inevitable cigars, and the following ob¬ 
servations struggled feebly out along with the smoke: 


10 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Mr. Oldfield, I am going to be married.” 

“G-lad to hear it, Sir Charles.” (Vision of settle¬ 
ments.) “ It is high time you were.” (Puff, puff.) 

“ Want your advice and assistance first.” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ Must put down my pony-carriage, now, you know.” 

“A very proper retrenchment; but you can do that 
without my assistance.” 

“ There would be sure to be a row if I did. I dare 
say there will be as it is. At any rate, I want to do the 
thing like a gentleman.” 

“Send ’em to Tattersall’s.” (Puff.) 

“And the girl that drives them in the Park, and 
draws all the duchesses and countesses at her tail — am 
I to send her to Tattersall’s ? ” (Puff.) 

“ Oh, it is her you want to put down, then ? ” 

“ Why, of course.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


11 


CHAPTER II. 

Sir Charles and Mr. Oldfield settled that lady’s retir¬ 
ing pension; and Mr. Oldfield took the memoranda home, 
with instructions to prepare a draft deed for Miss Somer¬ 
set’s approval. 

Meantime Sir Charles visited Miss Bruce every day. 
Her affection for him grew visibly; for being engaged 
gave her the courage to love. 

Mr. Bassett called pretty often; but one day he met 
Sir Charles on the stairs, and scowled. 

That scowl cost him dear, for Sir Charles thereupon 
represented to Bella that a man with a grievance is a 
bore to the very eye, and asked her to receive no more 
visits from his scowling cousin. The lady smiled, and 
said with soft complacency, “ I obey.” 

Sir Charles’s gallantry was shocked. “No, don’t say 
( obey.’ It is a little favor I ventured to ask.” 

“ It is like you, to ask what you have a right to com¬ 
mand. I shall be out to him in future, and to every one 
who is disagreeable to you. What! does ‘ obey ’ frighten 
you from my lips ? To me it it is the sweetest in the 
language. Oh, please let me ‘obey ’ you ! May I ? ” 

Upon this, as vanity is seldom out of call, Sir Charles 
swelled like a turkey-cock, and loftily consented to 
indulge Bella Bruce’s strange propensity. 

From that hour she was never at home to Mr. Bassett. 

He began to suspect; and one day, after he had been 
kept out with the loud, stolid “Not at home,” of prac¬ 
tised mendacity, he watched, and saw Sir Charles 
admitted. 


12 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


He divined it all in a moment, and turned to worm¬ 
wood. What! was he to be robbed of the lady he loved 
— and her fifteen thousand pounds — by the very man 
who had robbed him of his ancestral fields ? He dwelt 
on the double grievance till it nearly frenzied him. But 
he could do nothing; it was his fate. His only hope 
was that Sir Charles, the arrant flirt, would desert this 
beauty after a time, as he had the others. 

But one afternoon, in the smoking-room of his club, a 
gentleman said to him, “ So your cousin Charles is en¬ 
gaged to the Yorkshire beauty, Bell Bruce.” 

“ He is flirting with her, I believe,” said Richard. 

“ No, no,” said the other; “ they are engaged. I 
know it for a fact. They are to be married next 
month.” 

Mr. Richard Bassett digested this fresh pill in moody 
silence, while the gentlemen of the club discussed the 
engagement with easy levity. They soon passed to a 
topic of wider interest — viz., who was to succeed Sir 
Charles with La Somerset. Bassett began to listen at¬ 
tentively, and learned for the first time Sir Charles 
Bassett’s connection with that lady, and also that she 
was a woman of a daring nature and furious temper. 
At first he was merely surprised, but soon hatred and 
jealousy whispered in his ear that with these materials 
it must be possible to wound those who had wounded 
him. 

Mr. Marsh, a young gentleman with a receding chin, 
and a mustache between hay and straw, had taken great 
care to let them all know he was acquainted with Miss 
Somerset; so Richard got Marsh alone, and sounded him. 
Could he call upon the lady, without ceremony ? 

“ You won’t get in; her street-door is jolly well 
guarded, I can tell you.” 

“ I am very curious to see her in her own house.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


13 


“ So are a good many fellows.” 

“ Could you not give me an introduction ? ” 

Marsh shook his head sapiently for a considerable 
time, and with all this shaking, as it appeared, out fell 
words of wisdom. “ Don’t see it. I’m awfully spooney 
on her myself; and, you know, when a fellow introduces 
another fellow, that fellow always cuts the other fellow 
out.” Then, descending from the words of the wise and 
their dark sayings to a petty but pertinent fact, he 
added, “ Besides , I’m only let in myself about once in 
five times.” 

“She gives herself wonderful airs, it seems,” said 
Bassett, rather bitterly. 

Marsh fired up. “ So would any woman that was as 
beautiful, and as witty, and as much run after as she is. 
Why, she is a leader of fashion. Look at all the ladies 
following her round the Park. They used to drive on 
the north side of the Serpentine. She just held up her 
finger, and now they have cut the Serpentine, and fol¬ 
lowed her to the south drive.” 

“ Oh, indeed! ” said Bassett. “ Ah! then this is a 
great lady; a poor country squire must not venture into 
her august presence.” He turned savagely on his heel, 
and Marsh went and made sickly mirth at his ex¬ 
pense. 

By this means the matter soon came to the ears of old 
Mr. Woodgate, the father of that club, and a genial gos¬ 
sip. He got hold of Bassett in the dining-room, and ex¬ 
amined him. “ So you want an introduction to La Somer¬ 
set, and Marsh refuses — Marsh, hitherto celebrated for 
his weak head rather than his hard heart ? ” 

Bichard Bassett nodded rather sullenly; he had not 
bargained for this rapid publicity. 

The venerable chief resumed, “We all consider Marsh’s 
conduct unclubable, and a thing to be combined against. 


14 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Wanted — an Anti-dog-in-the-manger League. I’ll intro¬ 
duce you to the Somerset.” 

“ What! do you visit her ? ” asked Bassett in some 
astonishment. 

The old gentleman held up his hands in droll dis¬ 
claimer, and chuckled merrily. “Ho, no; I enjoy from 
the shore the disasters of my youthful friends — that 
sacred pleasure is left me. Do you see that elegant 
creature with the little auburn beard and mustache, 
waiting sweetly for his dinner ? He launched the 
Somerset.” 

“ Launched her ? ” 

“Yes; but for him she might have wasted her time, 
breaking hearts and slapping faces, in some country 
village. He it was set her devastating society; and, 
with his aid, she shall devastate you. Yandeleur, will 
you join Bassett and me ? ” 

Mr. Yandeleur, with ready grace, said he should be 
delighted, and they dined together accordingly. 

Mr. Yandeleur, six feet high, lank, but graceful as a 
panther, the pink of politeness, was, beneath his varnish, 
one of the wildest young men in London, — gambler, 
horse-racer, libertine, what not ? but in society charming, 
and his manners singularly elegant and winning. He 
never obtruded his vices in good company; in fact, you 
might dine with him all your life, and not detect him. 
The young serpent was torpid in wine ; but he came out 
a bit at a time, in the sunshine of cigar. 

After a brisk conversation on current topics, the 
venerable chief told him plainly that they were both 
curious to know the history of Miss Somerset, and he 
must tell it them. 

“ Oh, with pleasure ! ” said the obliging youth. “ Let 
us go into the smoking-room.” 

“Let — me—see. I picked her up by the seaside. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


15 


She promised well at first. We put her on my chestnut 
mare, and she showed lots of courage, so she soon learned 
to ride; but she kicked, even down there.” 

“ Kicked — whom ? ” 

“ Kicked all round. I mean, showed temper. And, 
when she got to London, and had ridden a few times in 
the Park, and had swallowed flattery, there was no hold¬ 
ing her. I stood her cheek for a good while, but at last 
I told the servants they must not turn her out, but they 
could keep her out. They sided with me for once. She 
had ridden over them as well. The first time she went 
out they bolted the doors, and handed her boxes up the 
area steps.” 

“ How did she take that ? ” 

“Easier than we expected. She said, ‘Lucky for you 

beggars that I’m a lady, or I’d break every d-d window 

in the house.’ ” 

This caused a laugh. It subsided. The historian 
resumed. 

“Next day she cooled, and wrote a letter.” 

“ To you ? ” 

“No; to my groom. Would you like to see it ? It is 
a curiosity.” 

He sent one of the club waiters for his servant, 
and his servant for his desk, and produced the let¬ 
ter. 

“There!” said Yandeleur. “She looks like a 
queen, and steps like an empress, and this is how 
she writes. 

dear jorge, — i have got the sak an’ praps your turn nex. 
dear jorge he alwaies promise me the grey oss, which now 
an oss is life an death to me. If you was to ast him to lend 
me the grey he wouldn’t refuse you. 

Yours respecfully, 

Rhoda Somerset. 


16 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


When the letter and the handwriting, which, unfor¬ 
tunately, I cannot reproduce, had been duly studied and 
approved, Yandeleur continued: — 

“Now, you know, she had her good points, after all. 
If any creature was ill, she’d sit up all night, and nurse 
them; and she used to go to church on Sundays, and 
come back with the sting out of her, only then she 
would preach to a fellow, and bore him. She is awfully 
fond of preaching. Her dream is to jump on a first-rate 
hunter, and ride across country, and preach the villages. 
So, when George came grinning to me with the letter, I 
told him to buy a new side-saddle for the gray, and take 
her the lot, with my compliments. I had noticed a 
slight spavin in his near hock. She rode him that very 
day in the Park, all alone, and made such a sensation, 
that next day my gray was standing in Lord Hailey’s 
stables. But she rode Hailey, like my gray, with a long 
spur, and he couldn’t stand it. None of ’em could, 
except Sir Charles Bassett, and he doesn’t play fair — 
never goes near her.” 

“And that gives him an unfair advantage over his 
fascinating predecessor ? ” inquired the senior slyly. 

“Of course it does,” said Vandeleur stoutly. “You 
ask a girl to dine at Richmond once a month, and keep 
out of her way all the rest of the time, and give her lots 
of money, she will never quarrel with you.” 

“Profit by this information, young man,” said old 
Woodgate severely: “ it comes too late for me. In my 
day there existed no sure method of pleasing the fair. 
But now that is invented along with everything else. 
Richmond and — absence : equivalent to ‘Richmond and 
victory! ’ Now, Bassett, we have heard the truth from 
the fountain-head; and it is rather serious ; she swears, 
she kicks, she preaches. Do you still desire an introduc¬ 
tion ? As for me, my manly spirit is beginning to quake 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 17 

at Vandeleur’s revelations, and some lines of Scott recur 
to my Gothic memory: — 

* From the chafed tiger rend his prey, 

Bar the fell dragon’s blighting way, 

But shun that lovely snare.’ ” 

Bassett replied, gravely, that he had no such motive 
as Mr. Woodgate gave him credit for, but still desired 
the introduction. 

a With pleasure,” said Vandeleur; “ but it will be no 
use to you. She hates me like poison: says I have no 
heart. That is what all ill-tempered women say.” 

Notwithstanding his misgivings, the obliging youth 
called for writing materials, and produced the following 
epistle: — 

Dear Miss Somerset, — Mr. Richard Bassett, a cousin of 
Sir Charles, wishes very much to be introduced to you, and 
has begged me to assist in an object so laudable. I should 
hardly venture to present mj 7 self, and, therefore, shall feel 
surprised as well as flattered if you will receive Mr. Bassett 
on my introduction, and my assurance that he is a respectable 
country gentleman, and bears no resemblance in character to 
Yours faithfully, 

Arthur Yandeleur. 

Next day Bassett called at Miss Somerset’s house in 
Mayfair, and delivered his introduction. He was ad¬ 
mitted after a short delay, and entered the lady’s boudoir. 
It was Luxury’s nest. The walls were rose-colored satin, 
padded and puckered; the voluminous curtains were pale 
satin, with floods and billows of real lace; the chairs 
embroidered, the tables all buhl and ormolu, and the 
sofas felt like little seas. The lady herself, in a delight¬ 
ful peignoir, sat nestled cosily in a sort of ottoman with 
arms. Her finely formed hand, clogged with brilliants, 
2 


18 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


was just conveying brandy and soda-water to a very 
handsome mouth, when Eichard Bassett entered. 

She raised herself superbly, but without leaving her 
seat, and just looked at a chair in a way that seemed to 
say, “ I permit you to sit down; ” and, that done, she 
carried the glass to her lips with the same admirable 
firmness of hand she showed in driving. Her lofty 
manner, coupled with her beautiful but rather haughty 
features, smacked of imperial origin. Yet she was the 
writer to “ jorge,” and four years ago a shrimp-girl, run¬ 
ning into the sea with legs as brown as a berry. 

So swiftly does merit rise in this world, which, never¬ 
theless, some morose folk pretend is a wicked one. 

I ought to explain, however, that this haughty recep¬ 
tion was partly caused by a breach of propriety. Van- 
deleur ought first to have written to her, and asked 
permission to present Eichard Bassett. He had no 
business to send the man and the introduction together. 
This law a Parliament of Sirens had passed, and the 
slightest breach of it was a bitter offence. Equilibrium 
governs the world. These ladies were bound to be over- 
strict in something or other, being just a little lax in 
certain things where other ladies are strict. 

Now, Bassett had pondered well what he should say; 
but he was disconcerted by her superb presence and 
demeanor, and her large gray eyes that rested steadily 
upon his face. 

However, he began to murmur mellifluously. Said he 
had often seen her in public, and admired her, and 
desired to make her acquaintance, etc., etc. 

“ Then, why did you not ask Sir Charles to bring you 
here ? ” said Miss Somerset abruptly, and searching 
him with her eyes that were not to say bold, but singu¬ 
larly brave, and examiners point-blank. 

“ I am not on good terms with Sir Charles. He holds 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


19 


the estates that ought to be mine; and now he has 
robbed me of my love, he is the last man in the world 
I would ask a favor of.” 

“ You came here to abuse him behind his back, eh ? ” 
asked the lady with undisguised contempt. 

Bassett winced, but kept his temper. 

“No, Miss Somerset; but you seem to think I ought 
to have come to you through Sir Charles. I would not 
enter your house if I did not feel sure I shall not meet 
him here.” 

Miss Somerset looked rather puzzled. 

“ Sir Charles does not come here often, but he comes 
now and then, and he is always welcome.” 

“You surprise me.” 

“Thank you. Now some of my gentlemen friends 
think it is a wonder he does not come every minute.” 

“ You mistake me. What surprises me is that you 
are such good friends under the circumstances.” 

“ Circumstances ! what circumstances ? ” 

“Oh, you know. You are in his confidence, I pre¬ 
sume ? ” this rather satirically. So the lady answered 
defiantly. 

“Yes, I am; he knows I can hold my tongue; so he 
tells me things he tells nobody else.” 

“ Then, if you are in his confidence, you know he is 
about to be married.” 

“ Married ! Sir Charles married! ” 

“ In three weeks.” 

“It’s a lie ! You get out of my house this moment!” 

Mr. Bassett colored at this insult. He rose from his 
seat with some little dignity, made her a low bow, and 
retired. But her blood was up: she made a wonderful 
rush, sweeping down a chair with her dress as she went, 
and caught him at the door, clutched him by the shoul¬ 
der and half dragged him back, and made him sit down 


20 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


again, while she stood opposite him, with the knuckles 
of one hand resting on the table. 

“Now/’ said she, panting, “you look me in the face, 
and say that again.” 

“ Excuse me, you punish me too severely for telling 
the truth.” 

“Well, I beg your pardon — there. Now tell me — 
this instant. Can’t you speak, man ? ” And her knuck¬ 
les drummed the table. 

“ He is to be married in three weeks.” 

“Oh!—Who to?” 

“ A young lady I love.” 

“ Her name ? ” 

“ Miss Arabella Bruce.” 

“ Where does she live ? ” 

“Portman Square.” 

“ I’ll stop that marriage.” 

“ How ? ” asked Bichard eagerly. 

“ I don’t know; that I’ll think over. But he shall 
not marry her — never ! ” 

Bassett sat and looked up with almost as much awe as 
complacency at the fury he had evoked; for this woman 
was really, at times, a poetic impersonation of that fiery 
passion she was so apt to indulge. She stood before 
him, her cheek pale, her eyes glittering and roving 
savagely, and her nostrils literally expanding, while her 
tall body quivered with wrath, and her clenched knuckles 
pattered on the table. 

“ He shall not marry her. I’ll kill him first.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


21 


CHAPTER III. 


Richard Bassett eagerly offered his services to break 
off the obnoxious match. But Miss Somerset was begin¬ 
ning to be mortified at having shown so much passion 
before a stranger. 

“ What have you to do with it ? ” said she sharply. 

“ Everything. I love Miss Bruce.” 

“ Oh, yes; I forgot that. Anything else ? There is, 
now. I see it in your eye. What is it ? ” 

“ Sir Charles’s estates are mine by right, and they will 
return to my line if he does not marry and have issue.” 

“ Oh, I see. That is so like a man. It’s always love, 
and something more important, with you. Well, give 
me your address. I’ll write if I want you.” 

“ Highly flattered,” said Bassett ironically — wrote 
his address, and left her. 

Miss Somerset then sat down and wrote: 


dear sir Charles, — please call here, I want to speak to 
you. 


yours respecfuly, 


rhoda Somerset. 


Sir Charles obeyed this missive, and the lady received 
him with a gracious and smiling manner, all put on and 
cat-like. She talked with him on different things for 
more than an hour, still watching to see if he would tell 
her of his own accord. 

When she was quite sure he would not, she said, — 

“ Do you know there’s a ridiculous report about, that 
you are going to be married ? ” 


22 


A TEER1BLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Indeed! ” 

“They even tell her name — Miss Bruce. Do you 
know the girl ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Is she pretty ? 99 

“ Very.” 

“ Modest ?” 

“ As an angel.” 

“ And are you going to marry her ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ Then you are a villain.” 

“ The deuce I am ! ” 

“You are, to abandon a woman who has sacrificed all 
for you.” 

Sir Charles looked puzzled, and then smiled; but was 
too polite to give his thoughts vent. Nor was it neces¬ 
sary; Miss Somerset, whose brave eyes never left the 
person she was speaking to, fired up at the smile alone, 
and she burst into a torrent of remonstrance, not to say 
vituperation. Sir Charles endeavored once or twice to 
stop it, but it was not to be stopped; so, at last, he 
quietly took up his hat to go. 

He was arrested at the door by a rustle and a fall. 
He turned round, and there was Miss Somerset lying on 
her back, grinding her white teeth and clutching the air. 

He ran to the bell and rang it violently, then knelt 
down and did his best to keep her from hurting herself; 
but, as generally happens in these cases, his interference 
made her more violent. He had hard work to keep her 
from battering her head against the floor, and her arms 
worked like windmills. 

Hearing the bell tugged so violently, a pretty page 
ran headlong into the room — saw — and, without an 
instant’s diminution of speed, described a curve and ran 
headlong out, screaming “ Polly! Polly ! 99 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


23 


The next moment, the housekeeper, an elderly woman, 
trotted in at the door, saw her mistress’s condition, and 
stood stock-still, calling “ Polly,” but with the most 
perfect tranquillity the mind can conceive. 

In ran a strapping housemaid, with black eyes and 
brown arms, went down on her knees and said firmly, 
though respectfully, u Give her me, sir.” 

She got behind her struggling mistress, pulled her up 
into her own lap, and pinned her by the wrists with a 
vigorous grasp. 

The lady struggled, and ground her teeth audibly, and 
flung her arms abroad. The maid applied all her rustic 
strength and harder muscle to hold her within bounds. 
The four arms went to and fro in a magnificent struggle, 
and neither could the maid hold the mistress still, nor 
the mistress shake off the maid’s grasp, nor strike any¬ 
thing to hurt herself. 

Sir Charles, thrust out of the play, looked on with 
pity and anxiety, and the little page at the door — com¬ 
bining art and nature — stuck stock-still in a military 
attitude, and blubbered aloud. 

As for the housekeeper, she remained in the middle 
of the room with folded arms, and looked down on the 
struggle with a singular expression of countenance. 
There was no agitation whatever, but a sort of thought¬ 
ful examination, half cynical, half admiring. 

However, as soon as the boy’s sobs reached her ear, 
she wakened up, and said tenderly, “ What is the child 
crying for ? Run and get a basin of water and fling it 
all over her: that will bring her to in a minute.” 

The page departed swiftly on this benevolent errand. 

Then the lady gave a deep sigh, and ceased to 
struggle. 

Next she stared in all their faces, and seemed to return 
to consciousness. 


24 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Next she spoke, but very feebly. “Help me up,” she 
sighed. 

Sir Charles and Polly raised her, and now there was 
a marvellous change. The vigorous vixen was utterly 
weak and limp as a wet towel — a woman of jelly. As 
such they handled her, and deposited her gingerly on the 
sofa. 

Now the page ran in hastily with the water. Up 
jumps the poor lax sufferer with flashing eyes: “ You 
dare to come near me with it! ” Then to the female 
servants: “ Call yourselves women, and water my lilac 
silk, not two hours old ? ” Then to the housekeeper: 
“You old monster, you wanted it for your Polly. Get 
out of my sight, the lot! ” 

Then, suddenly remembering how feeble she was, she 
sank instantly down, and turned piteously and languidly 
to Sir Charles. “ They eat my bread, and rob me, and 
hate me,” said she faintly. “ I have but one friend on 
earth.” She leaned tenderly towards Sir Charles as that 
friend; but before she quite reached him she started 
back, her eyes filled with sudden horror. “ And he for¬ 
sakes me! ” she cried; and so turned away from him 
despairingly, and began to cry bitterly, with head averted 
over the sofa, and one hand hanging by her side for Sir 
Charles to take and comfort her. He tried to take it. 
It resisted; and, under cover of that little disturbance, 
the other hand dexterously whipped two pins out of her 
hair. The long brown presses — all her own —fell over 
her eyes and down to her waist, and the picture of 
distressed beauty was complete. 

Even so did the women of antiquity conquer male pity 
— solutis crinibus. 

The females interchanged a meaning glance and 
retired; the boy followed them with his basin, sore 
perplexed, but learning life in this admirable school. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


25 


Sir Charles, then, with the utmost kindness, endeavored 
to reconcile the weeping and dishevelled fair to that 
separation which circumstances rendered necessary. But 
she was inconsolable, and he left the house, perplexed 
and grieved: not but what it gratified his vanity a little 
to find himself beloved all in a moment, and the Somer¬ 
set unvixened. He could not help thinking how wide 
must be the circle of his charms, which had won the 
affections of two beautiful women so opposite in char¬ 
acter as Bella Bruce and La Somerset. 

The passion of this latter seemed to grow. She wrote 
to him every day, and begged him to call on her. 

She called on him, she who had never called on a man 
before. 

She raged with jealousy, she melted with grief. She 
played on him with all a woman’s artillery, and, at last, 
actually wrung from him what she called a reprieve. 

Bichard Bassett called on her, but she would not 
receive him; so, then, he wrote to her urging co-opera¬ 
tion, and she replied, frankly, that she took no interest 
in his affairs, but that she was devoted to Sir Charles, 
and should keep him for herself. Vanity tempted her 
to add that he (Sir Charles) was with her every day and 
the wedding postponed. 

This last seemed too good to be true, so Bichard 
Bassett set his servant to talk to the servants in Portman 
Square. He learned that the wedding was now to be on 
the 15th of June, instead of the 31st of May. 

Convinced that this postponement was only a blind, 
and that the marriage would never be, he breathed more 
freely at the news. 

But the fact is, although Sir Charles had yielded so far 
to dread of scandal, he was ashamed of himself, and his 
shame became remorse when he detected a furtive tear in 
the dove-like eyes of her he really loved and esteemed. 


26 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


He went and told his tale to Mr. Oldfield. “I am 
afraid she will do something desperate/’ he said. 

Mr. Oldfield heard him out, and then asked him, had 
he told Miss Somerset what he was going to settle on 
her ? 

“ Not I. She is not in a condition to be influenced by 
that, at present.” 

“ Let me try her. The draft is ready. I’ll call on 
her, to-morrow.” 

He did call, and was told she did not know him. 

“You tell her I’m a lawyer, and it is very much to her 
interest to see me,” said Mr. Oldfield to the page. 

He was admitted, but not to a tete-a-tete. Polly was 
kept in the room. The Somerset had peeped, and Old¬ 
field was an old fellow, with white hair; if he had been 
a young fellow, with black hair, she might have thought 
that precaution less necessary. 

“First, madam,” said Oldfield, “I must beg you to 
accept my apologies for not coming sooner. Press of 
business, etc.” 

“ Why have you come at all ? That is the question,” 
inquired the lady, bluntly. 

“ I bring the draft of a deed for your approval. Shall 
I read it to you ? ” 

“Yes; if it is not very long.” 

He began to read it. 

The lady interrupted him characteristically. 

“It’s a beastly rigmarole. What does it mean — in 
three words ? ” 

“ Sir Charles Bassett secures to Rhoda Somerset four 
hundred pounds a year, while single; this is reduced to 
two hundred if you marry. The deed further assigns to 
you, without reserve, the beneficial lease of this house, 
and all the furniture and effects, plate, linen, wine, etc.” 

“ I see; a bribe.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


27 


“ Nothing of the kind, madam. When Sir Charles 
instructed me to prepare this deed, he expected no oppo¬ 
sition on your part to his marriage; but he thought it 
due to him and to yourself, to mark his esteem for you, 
and his recollection of the pleasant hours he has spent 
in your company.” 

Miss Somerset’s eyes searched the lawyer’s face. He 
stood the battery unflinchingly. She altered her tone, 
and asked politety, and almost respectfully, whether she 
might see that paper. 

Mr. Oldfield gave it her. She took it, and ran her eye 
over it; in doing which, she raised it so that she could 
think behind it unobserved. She handed it back at last, 
with the remark that Sir Charles was a gentleman, and 
had done the right thing. 

“He has; and you will do the right thing too, will 
you not ? ” 

“I don’t know. I am just beginning to fall in love 
with him myself.” 

“Jealousy, madam, not love,” said the old lawyer. 
“ Come, now! I see you are a young lady of rare good 
sense. Look the thing in the face. Sir Charles is a 
landed gentleman; he must marry and have heirs. He 
is over thirty, and his time has come. He has shown 
himself your friend, why not be his ? He has given 
you the means to marry a gentleman of moderate income, 
or to marry beneath you, if you prefer it ” — - 

“ And most of us do.” 

“ Then why not make his path smooth ? Why distress 
him with your tears and remonstrances ? ” 

He continued in this strain for some time, appealing 
to her good sense and her better feelings. When he had 
done she said, very quietly, — 

“ How about the ponies and my brown mare ? are they 
down in the deed ? ” 


28 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ I think not; but if you will do your part handsomely, 
I’ll guarantee you shall have them.” 

“You are a good soul;” then, after a pause, “Now, 
just you tell me exactly what you want me to do for all 
this.” 

Oldfield was pleased with this question. He said: “ I 
wish you to abstain from writing to Sir Charles, and him 
to visit you only once more before his marriage, just to 
shake hands and part, with mutual friendship and good 
wishes.” 

“You are right,” said she, softly; “best for us both, 
and only fair to the girl.” Then, with sudden and eager 
curiosity, “ Is she very pretty ? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ What — hasn’t he told you ? ” 

“ He says she is lovely, and every way adorable; but 
then he is in love. The chances are, she is not half so 
handsome as yourself.” 

“ And yet he is in love with her ? ” 

“ Over head and ears.” 

“ I don’t believe it. If he was really in love with one 
woman, he couldn’t be just to another. I couldn’t. 
He’ll be coming back to me in a few months.” 

“ God forbid! ” 

“ Thank you, old gentleman.” 

Mr. Oldfield began to stammer excuses. She inter¬ 
rupted him. “ Oh, bother all that! I like you none the 
worse for speaking your mind.” Then, after a pause, 
“Now, excuse me, but suppose Sir Charles should change 
his mind, and never sign this paper ? ” 

“ I pledge my professional credit.” 

“That is enough, sir. I see I can trust you. Well, 
then, I consent to break off with Sir Charles, and only 
see him once more, as a friend. Poor Sir Charles, I 
hope he will be happy (she squeezed out a tear for him), 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


29 


happier than I am. And when he does come, he can 
sign the deed, you know.” 

Mr. Oldfield left her, and joined Sir Charles at Long’s, 
as had been previously agreed. 

"It is all right, Sir Charles. She is a sensible girl, 
and will give you no further trouble.” 

“ How did you get over the hysterics ? ” 

“ We dispensed with them. She saw at once it was to 
be business, not sentiment. You are to pay her one 
more visit, to sign, and part friends. If you please, I’ll 
make that appointment with both parties as soon as the 
deed is engrossed. Oh, by the by, she did shed a tear or 
two, but she dried them to ask me for the ponies and 
the brown mare.” 

Sir Charles’s vanity was mortified. But he laughed it 
off, and said she should have them, of course. 

So now his mind was at ease, his conscience was at 
rest, and he could give his whole time where he had 
given his heart. 

Bichard Bassett learned, through his servant, that the 
wedding-dresses were ordered. He called on Miss Som¬ 
erset. She was out. 

Polly opened the door, and gave him a look of admira¬ 
tion — due to his fresh color — that encouraged him to 
try and enlist her in his service. 

He questioned her, and she told him in a general way 
how matters were going. “But,” said she, “why not 
come and talk to her yourself ? Ten to one but she tells 
you. She is pretty outspoken.” 

“My pretty dear,” said Bichard, “she never will 
receive me.” 

“ Oh, but I’ll make her,” said Polly. 

And she did exert her influence as follows: “ Lookee 
here, the cousin’s a-coming to-morrow, and I’ve been and 
promised he should see you.” 


30 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ What did you do that for ? ” 

“ Why, he’s a well-looking chap, and a beautiful color, 
fresh from the country like me. And he’s a gentleman, 
and got an estate belike; and why not put yourn to hisn, 
and so marry him, and be a lady ? You might have me 
about ye all the same, till my turn comes.” 

“ No, no,” said Bhoda, “ that’s not the man for me. If 
ever I marry, it must be one of my own sort, or else a 
fool like Marsh, that I can make a slave of.” 

“ Well, anyway, you must see him, not to make a fool 
of me, for I did promise him; which, now I think on’t, 
’twas very good of me, for I could find in my heart to 
ast him down into the kitchen, instead of bringing him 
up-stairs to you.” 

All this ended, somehow, in Mr. Bassett being admitted. 

To his anxious inquiry how matters stood, she replied 
coolly that Sir Charles and herself were parted by mutual 
consent. 

“ What, after all your protestations! ” said Bassett 
bitterly. 

But Miss Somerset was not in an irascible humor just 
then. She shrugged her shoulders, and said, — 

“ Yes, I remember I put myself in a passion, and said 
some ridiculous things. But one can’t be always a fool. 
I have come to my senses. This sort of thing always 
does end, you know. Most of them part enemies, but he 
and I part friends and well-wishers.” 

“And you throw me over as if I was nobody,” said 
Richard, white with anger. 

“ Why, what are you to me ? ” said the Somerset. 
“ Oh! I see. You thought to make a cat’s-paw of me. 
Well, you won’t, then.” 

“In other words, you have been bought off.” 

“No, I have not. I am not to be bought by anybody, 
and I am not to be insulted by you, you ruffian! How 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


31 


dare you come here and affront a lady in her own house 
— a lady whose shoe-strings your betters are ready to tie, 
you brute! If you want to be a landed proprietor, go 
and marry some ugly old hag that’s got it, and no eye¬ 
sight left to see you’re no gentleman. Sir Charles’s land 
you’ll never have; a better man has got it, and means to 
keep it for him and his. Here, Polly! Polly! Polly! take 
this man down to the kitchen, and teach him manners if 
you can; he is not fit for my drawing-room by a long 
chalk.” 

Polly arrived in time to see the flashing eyes, the 
swelling veins, and to hear the fair orator’s peroration. 

“What, you are in your tantrums again!” said she. 
“Come along, sir. Needs must when the devil drives. 
You’ll break a blood-vessel some day, my lady, like your 
father afore ye.” 

And with this homely suggestion, which always sobered 
Miss Somerset, and indeed frightened her out of her 
wits, she withdrew the offender. 

She did not take him into the kitchen, but into the 
dinning-room, and there he had a long talk with her, and 
gave her a sovereign. 

She promised to inform him if anything important 
should occur. 

He went away pondering and scowling deeply. 


32 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Sir Charles Bassett was now living in Elysium. 
Never was rake more thoroughly transformed. Every 
day he sat for hours at the feet of Bella Bruce, admiring 
her soft feminine ways and virgin modesty even more 
than her beauty. And her visible blush whenever he 
appeared suddenly, and the soft commotion and yielding 
in her lovely frame whenever he drew near, betrayed his 
magnetic influence, and told all but the blind she adored 
him. 

She would decline all invitations, to dine with him and 
her father, — a strong-minded old admiral, whose author¬ 
ity was unbounded, only, to Bella’s regret, very rarely 
exerted. Nothing would have pleased her more than to 
be forbidden this, and commanded that; but, no! the 
admiral was a lion with an enormous paw, only he could 
not be got to put it into every pie. 

In this charming society the hours glided, and the 
wedding-day drew close. So deeply and sincerely was 
Sir Charles in love, that, when Mr. Oldfield’s letter came, 
appointing the day and hour to sign Miss Somerset’s 
deed, he was unwilling to go, and wrote back to ask if 
the deed could not be sent to his house. 

Mr. Oldfield replied that the parties to the deed and 
the witnesses must meet, and it would be unadvisable, 
for several reasons, to irritate the lady’s susceptibility 
previous to signature; the appointment having been 
made at her house, it had better remain so. 

That day soon came. 

Sir Charles, being due in Mayfair at two p.m., compen- 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


33 


sated himself for the less agreeable business to come by- 
going earlier than usual to Portman Square. By this 
means he caught Miss Bruce and two other young ladies 
inspecting bridal dresses. Bella blushed and looked 
ashamed, and, to the surprise of her friends, sent the 
dresses away, and set herself to talk rationally with Sir 
Charles, — as rationally as lovers can. 

The ladies took the cue, and retired in disgust. 

Sir Charles apologized. 

“ This is too bad of me. I come at an unheard-of hour, 
and frighten away your fair friends ; but the fact is, I 
have an appointment at two, and I don’t know how long 
they will keep me, so I thought I would make sure of 
two happy hours at the least.” 

And delightful hours they were. Bella Bruce, excited 
by this little surprise, leaned softly on his shoulder, and 
prattled her maiden love like some warbling fountain. 

Sir Charles, transfigured by love, answered her in kind, 
— three months ago he could not, — and they compared 
pretty little plans of wedded life, and had small differ¬ 
ences, and ended by agreeing. 

Complete and prompt accord upon two points: first, 
they would not have a single quarrel, like other people 
—their love should never lose its delicate bloom j second, 
they would grow old together, and die the same day, the 
same minute if possible, if not, they must be content 
with the same day, but on that inexorable. 

But soon after this came a skirmish. Each wanted to 
obey the other. 

Sir Charles argued that Bella was better than he, and 
therefore more fit to conduct the pair. 

Bella, who thought him divinely good, pounced on this 
reason furiously. He defended it. He admitted, with 
exemplary candor, that he was good now, “awfully good.” 
But he assured her that he had been anything but good 
3 


34 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


until he knew her; now, she had been always good; there¬ 
fore, he argued, as his goodness came originally from her, 
for her to obey him would be a little too much like the 
moon commanding the sun. 

“That is too ingenious for me, Charles,” said Bella. 
“And, for shame ! Nobody was ever so good as you are. 
I look up to you and — Now I could stop your mouth 
in a minute; I have only to remind you that I shall 
swear at the altar to obey you, and you will not swear 
to obey me. But I will not crush you under the Prayer- 
book— no, dearest; but, indeed, to obey is a want of 
my nature; and I marry you to supply that want — and 
that’s a story, for I marry you because I love and honor, 
and worship and adore you to distraction, my own — own 
— own! ” With this she flung herself passionately, yet 
modestly, on his shoulder, and, being there, murmured 
coaxingly, “You will let me obey you, Charles ? ” 

Thereupon Sir Charles felt highly gelatinous, and 
lost, for the moment, all power of resistance or argu¬ 
ment. 

“Ah, you will; and then you will remind me of my 
dear mother. She knew how to command; but as for 
poor dear papa, he is very disappointing. In selecting 
an admiral for my parent, I made sure of being ordered 
about. Instead of that — now I’ll show you — there he 
is in the next room, inventing a new system of signals, 
poor dear.” 

She threw the folding-door open. 

“ Papa dear, shall I ask Charles to dinner to-day ? ” 

“ As you please, my dear.” 

“ Do you think I had better walk or ride this after¬ 
noon ? ” 

“Whichever you prefer.” 

“ There,” said Bella, “ I told you so. That is always 
the way. — Papa dear, you used always to be firing guns 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


35 


at sea. Do, please, fire one in this house — just one 
before I leave it, and make the very windows rattle.” 

“ I beg your pardon, Bella, I never wasted powder at 
sea. If the convoy sailed well and steered right I never 
barked at them. You are a modest, sensible girl, and 
have always steered a good course. Why should I hoist 
a petticoat and play the small tyrant ? Wait till I see 
you going to do something wrong or silly.” 

" Ah, then you would fire a gun, papa! ” 

" Ay, a broadside.” 

"Well, that is something,” said Bella, as she closed 
the door softly. 

"No, no, it amounts to just nothing,” said Sir Charles, 
"for you never will do anything wrong or silly. I’ll 
accommodate you. I have thought of a way. I shall give 
you some blank cards; you shall write on them, ‘I think 
I should like to do so and so.’ You shall be careless, 
and leave them about; I’ll find them, and bluster, and 
say, ‘ I command you to do so and so, Bella Bassett,’ the 
very thing on the card, you know.” 

Bella colored to the brow with pleasure and modesty. 
After a pause, she said, " How sweet! The worst of it 
is, I should get my own way. Now what I want is to 
submit my will to yours. A gentle tyrant — that is 
what you must be to Bella Bassett. Oh, you sweet, 
sweet — for calling me that! ” 

These projects were interrupted by a servant announc¬ 
ing luncheon. 

This made Sir Charles look hastily at his watch, and 
he found it was past two o’clock. 

" How time flies in this house ! ” said he. " I must 
go, dearest; I am behind my appointment already. 
What do you do this afternoon ? ” 

" Whatever you please, my own.” 

" I could get away by four.” 


36 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Then I will stay at home for you.” 

He left her reluctantly, and she followed him to the 
head of the stairs, and hung over the banisters as if she 
would like to fly after him. 

He turned at the street door, saw that radiant and 
gentle face beaming after him, and they kissed hands to 
each other by one impulse, as if they were parting for 
ever so long. 

He had gone scarcely half an hour, when a letter, 
addressed to her, was left at the door by a private 
messenger. 

“ Any answer ? ” inquired the servant. 

“No.” 

The letter was sent up, and delivered to her on a silver 
salver. 

She opened it; it was a thing new to her in her young 
life — an anonymous letter. 

Miss Bruce, — I am almost a stranger to you, but I know 
your character from others, and cannot bear to see you abused. 
You are said to be about to marry Sir Charles Bassett. I think 
you can hardly be aware that he is connected with a lady of 
doubtful repute, called Somerset, and neither your virtue nor 
your beauty has prevailed to detach him from that connection. 

If, on engaging himself to you, he had abandoned her, I 
should not have said a word. But the truth is, he visits her 
constantly, and I blush to say that when he leaves you this day, 
it will be to spend the afternoon at her house. 

I enclose you her address, and you can learn in ten min¬ 
utes whether I am a slanderer, or, what I wish to be, 

A Friend of Injured Innocence. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


37 


CHAPTER V. 

Sir Charles was behind his time in Mayfair; but the 
lawyer and his clerk had not arrived, and Miss Somerset 
was not visible. 

She appeared, however, at last, in a superb silk dress, 
the broad lustre of which would have been beautiful, 
only the effect was broken and frittered away by six 
rows of gimp and fringe. But why blame her ? This is 
a blunder in art as universal as it is amazing, when one 
considers the amount of apparent thought her sex de¬ 
votes to dress. They might just as well score a fair plot 
of velvet turf with rows of box, or tattoo a blooming 
and downy cheek. 

She held out her hand like a man, and talked to Sir 
Charles on indifferent topics, till Mr. Oldfield arrived. 
She then retired into the background, and left the gen¬ 
tlemen to discuss the deed. When appealed to, she 
evaded direct replies, and put on languid and imperial 
indifference. When she signed it was with the air of 
some princess bestowing a favor upon solicitation. 

But the business concluded, she thawed all in a 
moment, and invited the gentlemen to luncheon, with 
charming cordiality. Indeed her genuine bonhomie after 
her affected indifference was rather comic. Everybody 
was content. Champagne flowed. The lady, with her 
good mother-wit, kept conversation going, till the lawyer 
was nearly missing his next appointment. He hurried 
away; and Sir Charles only lingered, out of good breed¬ 
ing, to bid Miss Somerset good-by. In the course of 
leave-taking, he said he was sorry he left her with 


38 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


people about her of whom he had a bad opinion. 
“Those women have no more feeling for you than 
stones. When you lay in convulsions, your housekeeper 
looked on as philosophically as if you had been two 
kittens at play, you and Polly.” 

“ I saw her.” 

“ Indeed! you appeared hardly in a condition to see 
anything.” 

“I did, though, and heard the old wretch tell the 
young monkey to water my lilac dress. That was to get 
it for her Polly. She knew Pd never wear it after¬ 
wards.” 

“ Then why don’t you turn her off ? ” 

“ Who’d take such a useless old hag, if I turned her 
off?” 

“ You carry a charity a long way.” 

“ I carry everything. What’s the use doing things by 
halves, good or bad ? ” 

“Well, but that Polly! She is young enough to get 
her living elsewhere ; and she is extremely disrespectful 
to you.” 

“ That she is. If I wasn’t a lady, I’d have given her a 
good hiding, this very day, for her cheek.” 

“Then why not turn her off this very day for her 
cheek ? ” 

“Well, I’ll tell you, since you and I are parted for 
ever. No, I don’t like.” 

“ Oh, come ! no secrets between friends.” 

“ Well, then, the old hag — is my mother.” 

“What?” 

“And the young jade — is my sister.” 

“ Good heavens! ” 

“ And the page — is my little brother.” 

“ Ha, ha, ha! ” 

“What, are you not angry ? ” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


39 


“ Angry ? no ! Ha, ha, ha !” 

“See what a hornet’s nest you have escaped from. 
My dear friend, those two women rob me through thick 
and thin. They steal my handkerchiefs and my gloves, 
and my very linen. They drink my wine like fishes. 
They’d take the hair off my head, if it wasn’t fast by 
the roots —for a wonder.” 

“ Why not give them a ten-pound note, and send them 
home ? ” 

“ They’d pocket the note, and blacken me in our vil¬ 
lage. That was why I had them up here. First time I 
went home, after running about with that little scamp 
Vandeleur — do you know him ? ” 

“ I have not the honor.” 

“Then your luck beats mine. One thing, he is going 
to the dogs as fast as he can. Some day he’ll come beg¬ 
ging to me for a fiver. You mark my words now.” 

“ Well, but you were saying ” — 

“Yes, I went off about Van. Polly says I’ve a mind 
like running water. Well, then, when I went home the 
first time —after Van, — mother and Polly raised a vir¬ 
tuous howl. ‘ All right,’ said I — for of course I know 
how much virtue there is under their skins. Virtue of 
the lower orders ! Tell that to gentlefolks that don’t 
know them. I do. I’ve been one of ’em. — ‘ I know all 
about that,’ says I. ‘You want to share the plunder, 
that is the sense of your virtuous cry.’ So I had ’em up 
here, and then there was no more virtuous howling, but 
a deal of virtuous thieving, and modest drinking, and 
pure-minded selling of my street-door to the highest 
male bidder. And they will corrupt the boy; and if 
they do, I’ll cut their black hearts out with my riding- 
whip. But I suppose I must keep them on; they are 
my own flesh and blood, and if I was to be ill and dying, 
they’d do all they could to keep me alive — for their 


40 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


own sakes. I’m their milch cow — these country inno¬ 
cents.” 

Sir Charles groaned aloud, and said : “ My poor girl, 
you deserve a better fate than this. Marry some honest 
fellow, and cut the whole thing.” 

" I’ll see about it. You try it first, and let us see how 
you like it.” 

And so they parted gayly. 

In the hall Polly intercepted him, all smiles. He 
looked at her, smiled in his sleeve, and gave her a hand¬ 
some present. 

"If you please, sir,” said she, "an old gentleman 
called for you.” 

"When?” 

"About an hour ago. Leastways he asked if Sir 
Charles Bassett was here. I said yes, but you wouldn’t 
see no one.” 

" Who could it be ? Why, surely you never told any¬ 
body I was to be here to-day ? ” 

" La, no, sir ! how could I ? ” said Polly, with a face of 
brass. 

Sir Charles thought this very odd, and felt even a 
little uneasy about it. All the way to Portman Square 
he puzzled over it: and at last he was driven to the con¬ 
clusion that Miss Somerset had been weak enough to tell 
some person, male or female, of the coming interview, 
and so somebody had called there — doubtless to ask 
him a favor. 

At five o’clock he reached Portman Square, and was 
about to enter, as a matter of course; but the footman 
stopped him. 

" I beg pardon, Sir Charles,” said the man, looking 
pale and agitated; " but I have strict orders. My young 
lady is very ill.” 

" Ill! Let me go to her this instant.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


41 


“ I daren’t, Sir Charles, I daren’t. I know you are a 
gentleman; pray don’t lose me my place. You would 
never get to see her. We none of us know the rights, 
but there’s something up. Sorry to say it, Sir Charles, 
but we have strict orders not to admit you. Haven’t you 
got the admiral’s letter, sir ? ” 

“ No: what letter ? ” 

“ He has been after you, sir ; and when he came back 
he sent Eoger off to your house with a letter.” 

A cold chill began to run down Sir Charles Bassett. 
He hailed a passing hansom, and drove to his own house 
to get the admiral’s letter; and as he went he asked 
himself, with chill misgivings, what on earth had 
happened. 

What had happened shall be told the reader precisely 
but briefly. 

In the first place, Bella had opened the anonymous 
letter, and read its contents, to which the reader is 
referred. 

There are people who pretend to despise anonymous 
letters. Pure delusion! They know they ought to, and 
so fancy they do; but they don’t. The absence of a 
signature gives weight, if the letter is ably written, and 
seems true. 

As for poor Bella Bruce, a dove’s bosom is no more fit to 
rebuff a poisoned arrow than she was to combat that 
foulest and direst of all a miscreant’s weapons, an anony¬ 
mous letter. She, in her goodness and innocence, never 
dreamed that any person she did not know could possibly 
tell a lie to wound her. The letter fell on her like a 
cruel revelation from heaven. 

The blow was so savage that at first it stunned her. 

She sat pale and stupefied; but, beneath the stupor, 
were the rising throbs of coming agonies. 

After that horrible stupor, her anguish grew and grew, 


42 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


till it found vent in a miserable cry, rising, and rising, 
and rising in agony. 

“ Mamma! mamma! mamma! ” 

Yes j her mother had been dead these three years, and 
her father sat in the next room, yet, in her anguish, she 
cried to her mother — a cry, the which if your mother 
had heard, she would have expected Bella’s to come to 
her, even from the grave. 

Admiral Bruce heard this fearful cry — the living 
calling on the dead — and burst through the folding- 
doors in a moment, white as a ghost. 

He found his daughter writhing on the sofa, ghastly, 
and grinding in her hand the cursed paper that had 
poisoned her young life. 

“ My child ! my child! ” 

“ Oh, papa! see ! see ! ” And she tried to open the 
letter for him, but her hands trembled so, she could not. 

He kneeled down by her side, the stout old warrior, 
and read the letter, while she clung to him moaning now, 
and quivering all over from head to foot. 

“ Why, there’s no signature ! The writer is a coward 
and, perhaps, a liar. Stop! he offers a test. I’ll put him 
to it this minute.” 

He laid the moaning girl on the sofa, ordered his 
servants to admit nobody into the house, and drove at 
once to Mayfair. 

He called at Miss Somerset’s house, saw Polly, and 
questioned her. 

He drove home again, and came into the drawing¬ 
room, looking as he had been seen to look when fighting 
his ship; but his daughter had never seen him so. “ My 
girl,” said he solemnly, “ there’s nothing for you to do 
but to be brave, and hide your grief as well as you can; 
for the man is unworthy of your love. That coward 
spoke the truth. He is there at this moment.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


43 


“ Oh, papa! papa! let me die. The world is too 
wicked for me. Let me die!” 

“Die for an unworthy object? For shame! Go to 
your own room, my girl, and pray to your God to help 
you, since your mother has left us. Oh, how I miss her 
now! Go and pray, and let no one else know what we 
suffer. Be your father's daughter. Fight, and pray.” 

Poor Bella had no longer to complain that she was not 
commanded. She kissed him, and burst into a great 
passion of weeping; but he led her to the door, and she 
tottered to her own room, a blighted girl. 

The sight of her was harrowing. Under its influence, 
the admiral dashed off a letter to Sir Charles, calling 
him a villain, and inviting him to go to France, and let 
an indignant father write scoundrel on his carcass. 

But, when he had written this, his good sense and 
dignity prevailed over his fury j he burned the letter, and 
wrote another. This he sent by hand to Sir Charles’s 
house, and ordered his servants — but that the reader 
knows. 

Sir Charles found the admiral’s letter in his letter-rack. 
It ran thus : 

Sir, —We have learned your connection with a lady named 
Somerset, and I have ascertained that you went from my 
daughter to her house this very day. 

Miss Bruce and myself withdraw from all connection with 
you, and I must request you to attempt no communication with 
her, of any kind. Such an attempt would be an additional 
insult. 

I am, sir, your obedient servant, 

John Urquhart Bruce. 

At first, Sir Charles Bassett was stunned by this blow. 
Then his mind resisted the admiral’s severity, and he 
was indignant at being dismissed for so common an 


44 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


offence. This gave way to deep grief and shame at the 
thought of Bella and her lost esteem. But soon all 
other feelings merged for a time in fury at the heartless 
traitor who had destroyed his happiness, and had dashed 
the cup of innocent love from his very lips. Boiling 
over with mortification and rage, he drove at once to 
that traitor’s house. Polly opened the door: he rushed 
past her, and burst into the dining-room, breathless and 
white with passion. 

He found Miss Somerset studying the deed, by which 
he had made her independent for life. She started at 
his strange appearance, and instinctively put both hands 
flat upon the deed. 

“You vile wretch!” cried Sir Charles. “You heart¬ 
less monster! Enjoy your work.” And he flung her 
the admiral’s letter. But he did not wait while she 
read it; he heaped reproaches on her; and, for the first 
time in her life, she did not reply in kind. 

“ Are you mad ? ” she faltered. “ What have I 
done ? ” 

“ You have told Admiral Bruce.” 

“That’s false.” 

“ You told him I was to be here to-day.” 

“ Charles, I never did. Believe me.” 

“You did. Nobody knew it but you: he was here 
to-day, at the very hour.” 

“ May I never get up alive off this chair, if I told a 
soul! Yes, our Polly. I’ll ring for her.” 

“ No, you will not. She is your sister. Do you think 
I’ll take the word of such reptiles, against the plain 
fact ? You have parted my love and me — parted us on 
the very day I had made you independent for life. An 
innocent love was waiting to bless me, and an honest 
love was in your power, thanks to me, your kind forgiv¬ 
ing friend and benefactor. I have heaped kindness on 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


45 


you from the first moment I had the misfortune to know 
you. I connived at your infidelities ” — 

“Charles ! Don’t say that. I never was” 

“1 indulged your most expensive whims ; and, instead 
of leaving you with a curse, as all the rest did that ever 
knew you, and as you deserve, I bought your consent to 
lead a respectable life and be blessed with a virtuous 
love. You took the bribe, but robbed me of the bless¬ 
ing— viper! You have destroyed me body and soul — 
monster! perhaps blighted her happiness as well; you 
she-devils hate an angel, worse than Heaven hates you. 
But you shall suffer with us: not your heart, for you 
have none, but your pocket. You have broken faith with 
me, and sent all my happiness to hell; I’ll send your 
deed to hell after it! ” With this he flung himself upon 
the deed, and was going to throw it into the fire. Now, 
up to that moment she had been overpowered by this 
man’s fury, whom she had never seen the least angry 
before; but, when he laid hands on her property, it 
acted like an electric shock. “ No! no ! ” she screamed, 
and sprang at him like a wildcat. 

Then ensued a violent and unseemly struggle all about 
the room; chairs were upset, and vases broken to pieces; 
and the man and woman dragged each other to and fro, 
one fighting for her property, as if it was her life, and 
the other for revenge. 

Sir Charles, excited by fury, was stronger than him¬ 
self, and at last shook off one of her hands for a moment, 
and threw the deed into the fire. She tried to break from 
him and save it, but he held her like iron. 

Yet not for long; whilst he was holding her back, and 
she straining every nerve to get to the fire, he began to 
show sudden symptoms of distress. He gasped loudly, 
and cried, “ Oh! oh! I’m choking! ” and then his 
clutch relaxed. She tore herself from it, and, plunging 
forward, rescued the smoking parchment. 


46 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


At that moment she heard a great stagger behind her, 
and a pitiful moan; and Sir Charles fell heavily, strik¬ 
ing his head against the edge of the sofa. She looked 
round as she knelt, and saw him, black in the face, 
rolling his eyeballs fearfully, while his teeth gnashed 
awfully, and a jet of foam flew through his lips. 

Then she shrieked with terror, and the blackened 
deed fell from her hands : at this moment, Polly rushed 
into the room ; she saw the fearful sight, and echoed her 
sister’s screams. But they were neither of them women 
to lose their heads, and beat the air with their hands; 
they got to him, and both of them fought hard with the 
unconscious sufferer, whose body, in a fresh convulsion, 
now bounded away from the sofa, and bade fair to batter 
itself against the ground. 

They did all they could to hold him with one arm 
apiece, and to release his swelling throat with the other. 
Their nimble fingers whipped off his necktie in a mo¬ 
ment; but the distended windpipe pressed so against 
the shirt-button, they could not undo it. Then they 
seized the collar, and, pulling against each other, wrenched 
the shirt open so powerfully, that the button flew into 
the air, and tinkled against a mirror a long way off. 

A few more struggles, somewhat less violent, and then 
the face, from purple, began to whiten; the eyeballs 
fixed; the pulse went down; the man lay still. 

“ Oh, my G-od,” cried Khoda Somerset,, “ he is dying! 
To the nearest doctor! There’s one three doors off. No 
bonnet! It’s life and death this moment. Ply ! ” 

Polly obeyed; and Dr. Andrews was actually in the 
room within five minutes. 

He looked grave, and kneeled down by the patient, and 
felt his pulse anxiously. 

Miss Somerset sat down, and, being from the country, 
though she did not look it, began to weep bitterly, and 
rock herself in rustic fashion. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


47 


The doctor questioned her kindly, and she told 
him, between her sobs, how Sir Charles had been 
taken. 

The doctor, however, instead of being alarmed by 
those frightful symptoms she related, took a more cheer¬ 
ful view directly. “ Then do not alarm yourself unnec¬ 
essarily/’ he said. “ It is only an epileptic fit.” 

“ Only ? ” sobbed Miss Somerset. “ Oh, if you had 
seen him! And he lies like death.” 

“Yes,” said Dr. Andrews: “a severe epileptic fit is 
really a terrible thing to look at, but it is not dangerous 
in proportion. Is he used to have them ? ” 

u Oh, no, doctor: never had one before.” 

Here she was mistaken, I think. 

“ You must keep him quiet, and give him a moderate 
stimulant, as soon as he can swallow comfortably; the 
quietest room in the house; and don’t let him be hungry 
night or day. Have food by his bedside, and watch him 
for a day or two. I’ll come again this evening.” 

The doctor went to his dinner tranquil. 

Not so those he left. Miss Somerset resigned her own 
luxurious bedroom, and had the patient laid, just as he 
was, upon her bed. She sent the page out to her 
groom, and ordered two loads of straw to be laid before 
the door; and she watched by the sufferer, with brandy 
and water by her side. 

Sir Charles now might have seemed to be in a peace¬ 
ful slumber, but for his eyes: they were open, and 
showed more white and less pupil than usual. 

However, in time he began to sigh and move, and even 
mutter; and, gradually, some little color came back to 
his pale cheeks. 

Then Miss Somerset had the good sense to draw back 
out of his sight, and order Polly to take her place by his 
side. Polly did so, and, some time afterwards, at a fresh 


43 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


order, put a teaspoonful of brandy to bis lips, which 
were still pale, and even bluish. 

The doctor returned, and brought his assistant. They 
put the patient to bed. 

“ His life is in no danger,” said he. “ I wish I was as 
sure about his reason.” 

At one o’clock in the morning, as Polly was snoring 
by the patient’s bedside, a hand was laid on her shoul¬ 
der. It was Rhoda. 

“ Go to bed, Polly: you are no use here.” 

“ You’d be sleepy if you worked as hard as I do.” 

“Very likely,” said Rhoda, with a gentleness that 
struck Polly as very singular. “ Good-night.” 

Rhoda spent the night watching, and thinking harder 
than she had ever thought before. 

Next morning early Polly came into the sick-room. 
There sat her sister watching the patient, out of sight. 

“ La, Rhoda! Have you sat there all night ? ” 

“ Yes. Don’t speak so loud. Come here. You’ve set 
your heart on this lilac silk: I’ll give it you for your 
black merino.” 

“ Not you, my lady; you are not so fond of mereeny, 
nor of me neither.” 

“ I am not a liar like you,” said the other, becoming 
herself for a moment, “ and what I say I’ll do. You put 
out your merino for me in the dressing-room.” 

“All right,” said Polly joyfully. 

“ And bring me two buckets of water instead of one. 
I have never closed my eyes.” 

“ Poor soul! and now you be going to sluice yourself 
all the same. Whatever you can see in cold water to 
run after it so, I can’t think. If I was to flood myself 
like you, it would soon float me to my long home.” 

“How do you know? You never gave it a trial. 
Come, no more chat ; give me my bath, and then you 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


49 


may wash yourself in a teacup if you like, only don’t 
wash my spoons in the same water, for mercy’s sake ! ” 

Thus affectionately stimulated in her duties, Polly 
brought cold water galore, and laid out her new merino 
dress. In this sober suit, with plain linen collar and 
cuffs, the Somerset dressed herself, and resumed her 
watching by the bedside. She kept more than ever out 
of sight; for the patient was now beginning to mutter 
incoherently, yet in a way that showed his clouded facul¬ 
ties were dwelling on the calamity which had befallen 
him. 

About noon the bell was rung sharply, and, on Polly 
entering, Rhoda called her to the window and showed 
her two female figures plodding down the street. “Look,” 
said she ; “ those are the only women I envy. Sisters of 
Charity. Run you after them, and take a good look at 
those beastly, ugly caps : then come and tell me how to 
make one.” 

“ Here’s a go ! ” said Polly, but executed the commis¬ 
sion promptly. 

It needed no fashionable milliner to turn a yard of 
linen into one of those ugly caps, which are beautiful 
banners of Christian charity and womanly tenderness to 
the sick and suffering. The monster cap was made in an 
hour, and Miss Somerset put it on, and a thick veil, and 
then she no longer thought it necessary to sit out of the 
patient’s sight. 

The consequence was that, in the middle of his ram- 
blings, he broke off and looked at her. The Sister puz¬ 
zled him. At last he called to her in French. 

She made no reply. 

“ Je suis a l’hopital, n’est-ce pas, bonne soeur ? ” 

“ I am English,” said she softly. 

4 




50 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER VI. 

“ English ! ” said Sir Charles. “ Then tell me, how 
did I come here ? Where am I ? ” 

“ You had a fit, and the doctor ordered you to be kept 
quiet; and I am here to nurse you.” 

“ A fit! ay, I remember. That vile woman! ” 

“ Don’t think of her: give your mind to getting well: 
remember there is somebody who would break her 
heart if you ” — 

“ Oh, my poor Bella! my sweet, timid, modest, loving 
Bella!” He was so weakened, that he cried like a 
child. 

Miss Somerset rose, and laid her forehead sadly upon 
the window-sill. 

“ Why do I cry for her, like a great baby ? ” muttered 
Sir Charles. “ She wouldn’t cry for me: she has cast 
me off in a moment.” 

“ Not she: it is her father’s doing. Have a little 
patience. The whole thing shall be explained to them ; 
and then she will soon soften the old man. It is not as 
if you were really to blame.” 

“ No more I was : it is all that vile woman.” 

“ Oh, don’t! She is so sorry : she has taken it all to 
heart. She had once shammed a fit on the very place; 
and, when you had a real fit there — on the very spot — 
oh, it was so fearful — and lay like one dead, she saw 
God’s finger, and it touched her hard heart. Don’t say 
anything more against her just now; she is trying so 
hard to be good. And, besides, it is all a mistake : she 
never told that old admiral; she never breathed a word 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


51 


out of her own house. Her own people have betrayed 
her and you. She has made me promise two things: to 
find out who told the admiral; and ” — 

“Well?” 

“ The second thing I have to do — well, that is a 
secret between me and that unhappy woman. She is bad 
enough, but not so heartless as you think.” 

Sir Charles shook his head incredulously, but said no 
more, and soon after fell asleep. 

In the evening he woke, and found the Sister watching. 

She now turned her head away from him, and asked 
him quietly to describe Miss Bella Bruce to her. 

He described her in minute and glowing terms. “ But 
oh, Sister,” said he, “ it is not her beauty only, but the 
beauty of her mind: so gentle, so modest, so timid, so 
docile. She would never have had the heart to turn me 
off. But she will obey her father. She looked forward 
to obeying me, sweet dove ! ” 

“ Did she say so ? ” 

“ Yes ; that is her dream of happiness, to obey.” 

The Sister still questioned him with averted head, 
and he told her what had passed between Bella and him 
the last time he saw her, and all their innocent plans of 
married happiness. He told her with the tear in his eye, 
and she listened with the tear in hers. “ And then,” 
said he, laying his hand on her shoulder, “ is it not hard ? 
I just went to Mayfair, not to please myself, but to do 
an act of justice; of more than justice, and then, for that 
to have her door shut in my face. Only two hours between 
the height of happiness and the depth of misery.” 

The Sister said nothing, but she hid her face in her 
hands and thought. 

The next morning, by her order, Polly came into the 
room and said, “ You are to go home. The carriage is 
at the door.” With this she retired, and Sir Charles’s 


52 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


valet entered the room soon after to help him to 
dress. 

“ Where am I, James ? ” 

“ Miss Somerset’s house, Sir Charles.” 

“ Then get me out of it directly.” 

“ Yes, Sir Charles. The carriage is at the door.” 

“ Who told you to come, James ? ” 

“ Miss Somerset, Sir Charles.” 

“ That is odd.” 

“ Yes, Sir Charles.” 

When he got home, he found a sofa placed by a fire, 
with wraps and pillows; his cigar-case laid out, and a 
bottle of salts, and also a small glass of old cognac, in 
case of faintness. 

“ Which of you had the gumption to do all this ? ” 

“ Miss Somerset, Sir Charles.” 

“ What, has she been here ? ” 

“ Yes, Sir Charles.” 

(i Curse her! ” 

" Yes, Sir Charles.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


53 


CHAPTER VII. 

“love lies bleeding.” 

Bella Bruce was drinking the bitterest cnp a young 
virgin soul can taste. Illusion gone — the wicked world 
revealed as it is, how unlike what she thought it was — 
love crushed in her, and not crushed out of her, as it 
might if she had been either proud or vain. 

Frail men and women should see what a passionate 
but virtuous woman can suffer, when a revelation, of 
which they think but little, comes and blasts her young 
heart, and bids her dry up in a moment the deep well of 
her affection, since it flows for an unworthy object, and 
flows in vain. I tell you that the fair head severed from 
the chaste body is nothing to her compared with this; 
the fair body pierced with heathen arrows was nothing * 
to her in the days of old compared with this. 

In a word — for nowadays we can but amplify, and so 
enfeeble, what some old dead master of language, im¬ 
mortal though obscure, has said in words of granite — 
here 

“ Love lay bleeding.” 

Ho fainting; no vehement weeping; but oh, such deep 
desolation; such weariness of life; such pitiable rest¬ 
lessness. Appetite gone; the taste of food almost lost; 
sleep unwilling to come ; and, oh, the torture of waking 
— for at that horrible moment, all rushed back at once, 
the joy that had been, the misery that was, the blank 
that was to come. 


54 


A TERKIBLE TEMPTATION. 


She never stirred out, except when ordered, and then 
went like an automaton. Pale, sorrow-stricken, and 
patient, she moved about, the ghost of herself; and lay- 
down a little, and then tried to work a little, and then 
to read a little; and could settle to nothing, but sorrow 
and deep despondency. 

Not that she nursed her grief. She had been told to 
be brave, and she tried. But her grief was her master ; 
it came welling through her eyes in a moment, of its 
own accord. 

She was deeply mortified too; but, in her gentle nature, 
anger could play but a secondary part. Her indignation 
was weak beside her grief, and did little to bear her up. 

Yet her sense of shame was vivid ; she tried hard not 
to let her father see how deeply she loved the man who 
had gone from her to Miss Somerset. Besides, he had 
ordered her to fight against a love that now could only- 
degrade her; he had ordered, and it was for her to obey. 

As soon as Sir Charles was better, he wrote her a long 
humble letter, owning that, before he knew her, he had 
led a free life; but assuring her that, ever since that 
happy time, his heart and his time had been solely hers ; 
as to his visit to Miss Somerset, it had been one of busi¬ 
ness merely, and this he could prove, if she would receive 
him. The admiral could be present at that interview, 
and Sir Charles hoped to convince him he had been some¬ 
what hasty and harsh in his decision. 

Now the admiral had foreseen Sir Charles would write 
to her ; so he had ordered his man to bring all letters to 
him first. 

He recognized Sir Charles’s hand, and brought the 
letter in to Bella. “Now, my child,” said he, “be brave. 
Here is a letter from that man.” 

“ Oh, papa ! I thought he would. I knew he would.” 
And the pale face was flushed with joy and hope, all in 
a moment. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


55 


“ Do what ? ” 

“ Write and explain.” 

“ Explain ? A thing that is clear as sunshine. He has 
written to throw dust in your eyes again. You are evi¬ 
dently in no state to judge. I shall read this letter first.” 

“ Yes, papa,” said Bella, faintly. 

He did read it, and she devoured his countenance all 
the time. 

“ There is nothing in it. He offers no real explana¬ 
tion, but only says he can explain, and asks for an inter¬ 
view — to play upon your weakness. If I give you this 
letter, it will only make you cry, and render your task 
more difficult. I must be strong, for your good, and set 
you an example. I loved this young man too ; but, now 
I know him ” — then he actually thrust the letter into 
the fire. 

But this was too much. Bella shrieked at the act, and 
put her hand to her heart, and shrieked again. “ Ah! 
you’ll kill us, you’ll kill us both ! ” she cried. “ Poor 
Charles ! Poor Bella! You don’t love your child — you 
have no pity.” And, for the first time, her misery was 
violent. She writhed and wept, and at last went into 
violent hysterics, and frightened that stout old warrior 
more than cannon had ever frightened him; and presently 
she became quiet, and wept at his knees, and begged his 
forgiveness, and said he was wiser than she was, and she 
would obey him in everything, only he must not be angry 
with her if she could not live. 

Then the stout admiral mingled his tears with hers, 
and began to realize what deep waters of affliction his 
girl was wading in. 

Yet he saw no way out but firmness. He wrote to 
Sir Charles, to say that his daughter was too ill to write; 
but that no explanation was possible, and no interview 
could be allowed. 


56 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Sir Charles, who, after writing, had conceived the 
most sanguine hopes, was now as wretched as Bella; 
only, now that he was refused a hearing, he had wounded 
pride to support him a little under wounded love. 

Admiral Bruce, fearing for his daughter’s health, and 
even for her life — she pined so visibly — now ordered 
her to divide her day into several occupations, and exact 
divisions of time : an hour for this, an hour for that; an 
hour, by the clock : and here he showed practical wisdom. 
Try it, ye that are very unhappy; and tell me the result. 

As a part of this excellent system, she had to walk 
round the square from eleven till twelve a.m. : but never 
alone: he was not going to have Sir Charles surprising 
her into an interview. He always went with her, and as 
\ he was too stiff to walk briskly, he sat down, and she 
had to walk in sight. He took a stout stick with him — 
for Sir Charles. But Sir Charles was proud, and stayed 
at home with his deep wound. 

One day, walking round the square, with a step of 
mercury, and heart of lead, Bella Bruce met a Sister of 
Charity pacing slow and thoughtful; their eyes met and 
drank, in a moment, every feature of each other. 

The Sister, apparently, had seen the settled grief on 
that fair face; for, the next time they met, she eyed her 
with a certain sympathy, which did not escape Bella. 

This subtle interchange took place several times, and 
Bella could not help feeling a little grateful. “ Ah ! ” 
she thought to herself, “ how kind religious people are ! 
I should like to speak to her.” And the next time they 
met, she looked wistfully in the Sister’s face. 

She did not meet her again, for she went and rested 
on a bench, in sight of her father, but at some distance 
from him. Unconsciously to herself, his refusal even to 
hear Sir Charles repelled her. That was so hard on him 
and her. It looked like throwing away the last chance, 
the last little chance of happiness. 

















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A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


57 


By-and-by the Sister came, and sat on the same bench. 

Bella was hardly surprised, but blushed high; for she 
felt that her own eyes had invited the sympathy of a 
stranger, and now it seemed to be coming the timid girl 
felt uneasy. The Sister saw that, and approached her 
with tact. “ You look unwell,” said she gently, but with 
no appearance of extravagant interest or curiosity. 

“ I am — a little,” said Bella, very reservedly. 

“ Excuse my remarking it. We are professional nurses, 
and apt to be a little officious, I fear.” 

No reply. 

“ I saw you were unwell. But I hope it is not serious. 
I can generally tell when the sick are in danger.” A 
peculiar look. “ I am glad not to see it in so young and 
— good a face.” 

“ You are young, too ; very young, and (she was going 
to say 1 beautiful/ but she was too shy) — to be a Sister 
of Charity. But I am sure you never regret leaving such 
a world as this is.” 

“ Never. I have lost the only thing I ever valued in it.” 

“ I have no right to ask you what that was.” 

“ Yop. shall know without asking. One I loved proved 
unworthy.” 

The Sister sighed deeply, and then, hiding her face 
with her hands for a moment, rose abruptly, and left the 
square, ashamed, apparently, of having been betrayed 
into such a confession. 

Bella, when she was twenty yards off, put out a timid 
hand, as if to detain her; but she had not the courage to 
say anything of the kind. 

She never told her father a word. She had got some¬ 
body now who could sympathize with her better than he 
could. 

Next day the Sister was there, and Bella bowed to her 
when she met her. 


58 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


This time it was the Sister who went and sat on the 
bench. 

Bella continued her walk for some time, but at last 
could not resist the temptation. She came and sat down 
on the bench, and blushed, as much as to say, “ I have 
the courage to come, but not to speak upon a certain 
subject, which shall be nameless.” 

The Sister, as may be imagined, was not so shy; she 
opened a conversation. “ I committed a fault yesterday: 
I spoke to you of myself and of the past; it is discour¬ 
aged by our rules. We are bound to inquire the grief of 
others, not to tell our own.” 

This was a fair opening; but Bella was too delicate to 
show her wounds to a fresh acquaintance. 

The Sister, having failed at that, tried something very 
different. 

“But I could tell you a pitiful case about another. 
Some time ago I nursed a gentleman whom love had lain 
on a sick-bed.” 

“ A gentleman! What, can they love as we do ? ” said 
Bella bitterly. 

“Not many of them ; but this was an exception. But 
I don’t know whether I ought to tell these secrets to so 
young a lady.” 

“ Oh, yes, please ! What else is there in this world 
worth talking about ? Tell me about the poor man who 
could love as we can.” 

The Sister seemed to hesitate, but at last decided to go 
on. 

“Well, he was a man of the world; and he had not 
always been a good man ; but he was trying to be. He 
had fallen in love with a young lady, and seen the beauty 
of virtue, and was going to marry her, and lead a good 
life. But he was a man of honor; and there was a lady 
for whom he thought it was his duty to provide. He 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


59 


set his lawyer to draw a deed, and his lawyer appointed 
a day for signing it at her house. The poor man came, 
because his lawyer told him. Do you think there was 
any great harm in that ? ” 

“ No ; of course not.” 

“Well, then, he lost his love for that.” 

Miss Bruce’s color began to come and go, and her 
supple figure to crouch a little. She said nothing. 

The Sister continued: “ Some malicious person went 
and told the young lady’s father the gentleman was in 
the habit of visiting that lady, and would be with her at 
a certain hour. And so he was ; but it was the lawyer’s 
appointment, you know. You seem agitated.” 

“No, no; not agitated,” said Bella, “but astonished: 
it is so like a story I know. A young lady, a friend of 
mine, had an anonymous letter, telling her that one she 
loved and esteemed was unworthy. But what you have 
told me shows me how deceitful appearances may be. 
What was your patient’s name ? ” 

“It is against our rules to tell that. But you said ‘an 
anonymous letter.’ Was your friend so weak as to 
believe an anonymous letter ? The writer of such a 
letter is a coward, and a coward is always a liar. Show 
me your friend’s anonymous letter. I may, perhaps, be 
able to throw a light on it.” 

The conversation was interrupted by Admiral Bruce, 
who had approached them unobserved. “Excuse me,” 
said he, “but you ladies seem to have hit upon a very 
interesting theme.” 

“Yes, papa,” said Bella. “ I took the liberty to ques¬ 
tion this lady as to her experiences of sick-beds, and she 
was good enough to give me some of them.” 

Having uttered this with a sudden appearance of 
calmness that first amazed the Sister, then made her 
smile, she took her father’s arm, bowed politely and a 


60 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


little stiffly to her new friend, and drew the admiral 
away. 

“ Oh ! ” thought the Sister, “ I am not to speak to the 
old gentleman. He is not in her confidence. Yet she is 
very fond of him. How she hangs on his arm! Sim¬ 
plicity ! Candor ! We are all tarred with the same stick, 
we women.” 

That night Bella was a changed girl: exalted and 
depressed by turns, and with no visible reason. 

Her father was pleased. Anything better than that 
deadly languor. 

The next day Bella sat by her father’s side in the 
square, longing to go to the Sister, yet patiently waiting 
to be ordered. 

At last the admiral, finding her dull and listless, said, 
“ Why don’t you go and talk to the Sister ? She amuses 
you. I’ll join you when I have smoked this cigar.” 

The obedient Bella rose, and went towards the Sister, 
as if compelled. But, when she got to her, her whole 
manner changed: she took her warmly by the hand, and 
said, trembling and blushing, and all on fire, “I have 
brought you the anonymous letter.” 

The elder actress took it, and ran her eye over it — an 
eye that now sparkled like a diamond. “ Humph! ” said 
she, and flung off all the dulcet tones of her assumed 
character with mighty little ceremony. “ This hand is 
disguised a little; but I think I know it. I am sure I 
do. The dirty little, rascal! ” 

“ Madam! ” cried Bella, aghast with surprise at this 
language. 

“ I tell you I know the writer, and his rascally motive. 
You must lend me this for a day or two.” 

“Must I?” said Bella. “Excuse me. Papa would 
be so angry.” 

“Very likely; but you will lend it to me for all thatj 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


61 


for, with this, I can clear Miss Bruce’s lover, and defeat 
his enemies.” 

Bella uttered a faint cry, and trembled, and her bosom 
heaved violently. She looked this way and that, like a 
frightened deer. “ But papa ? His eye is on us.” 

“Never deceive your father !” said the Sister, almost 
sternly; “but,” darting her gray eyes right into those 
dovelike orbs, “give me five minutes’ start, if you really 
love Sir Charles Bassett.” 

With these words she carried off the letter; and Bella 
ran, blushing, panting, trembling, to her father, and clung 
to him. 

He questioned her, but could get nothing from her 
very intelligible, until the Sister was out of sight, and 
then she told him all without reserve. 

“I was unworthy of him to doubt him. An anony¬ 
mous slander! I’ll never trust appearances again. Poor 
Charles ! Oh, my darling, what he must have suffered, 
if he loves like me! ” Then came a shower of happy 
tears; then a shower of happy kisses. 

The admiral groaned, but, for a long time, he could 
not get a word in. When he did, it was chilling. “ My 
poor girl,” said he, “this unhappy love blinds you. 
What, don’t you see the woman is no nun, but some sly 
hussy that man has sent to throw dust in your eyes! ” 

Nothing she could say prevailed to turn him from this 
view; and he acted upon it with resolution: he confined 
her excursions to a little garden at the back of the house, 
and forbade her, on any pretence, to cross the thresh¬ 
old. 

Miss Somerset came to the square, in another disguise, 
armed with important information. 

But no Bella Bruce appeared to meet her. 

All this time Bichard Bassett was happy as a prince. 

So besotted was he with egotism, and so blinded by 


62 


A TEKKIBLE TEMPTATION. 


imaginary wrongs, that he rejoiced in the lovers’ separa¬ 
tion, rejoiced in his cousin’s illness. 

Polly, who now regarded him almost as a lover, told 
him all about it, and already in anticipation he saw him¬ 
self and his line once more lords of the two manors, 
Bassett and Huntercombe, on the demise of Sir Charles 
Bassett, Bart., deceased without issue. 

And, in fact, Sir Charles was utterly defeated ; he lay 
torpid. 

But there was a tough opponent in the way: all the 
more dangerous that she was not feared. 

One fine day Miss Somerset electrified her groom by 
ordering her pony-carriage to the door at ten a.m. 

She took the reins on the pavement, like a man, jumped 
in light as a feather, and away rattled the carriage into 
the City. The ponies were all alive, the driver’s eye 
keen as a bird’s; her courage and her judgment equal. 
She wound in and out among the huge vehicles with 
perfect composure; and on' those occasions when, the 
traffic being interrupted, the oratorical powers were use¬ 
ful to fill up the time, she shone with singular brilliance. 
The West End is too often in debt to the City; but, in 
the matter of chaff, it was not so this day; for, when¬ 
ever she took a peck, she returned a bushel; and so she 
rattled to the door of Solomon Oldfield, Solicitor, Old 
Jewry. 

She penetrated into the inner office of that worthy, 
and told him he must come with her that minute to 
Portman Square. 

“ Impossible, madam! ” and, as they say in the law 
reports, gave his reasons. 

“ Certain, sir! ” and gave no reasons. 

He still resisted. 

Thereupon she told him she should sit there all day 
and chaff his clients one after another, and that his 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


63 


connection with, the Bassett and Huntercombe estates 
should end. 

Then he saw he had to do with a termagant, and 
consented with a sigh. 

She drove him westward, wincing every now and then 
at her close driving, and told him all, and showed him 
what she was pleased to call her little game. He told 
her it was too romantic. Said he, “You ladies read 
nothing but novels ; but the real world is quite different 
from the world of novels.” Having delivered this remon¬ 
strance, which was tolerably just, for she never read any¬ 
thing but novels and sermons, he submitted like a lamb 
and received her instructions. 

She drove as fast as she talked, so that by this time 
they were at Admiral Bruce’s door. 

Now Mr. Oldfield took the lead, as per instructions. 
“ Mr. Oldfield, solicitor, and a lady, on business.” 

The porter delivered this to the footman with the 
accuracy which all who send verbal messages deserve, 
and may count on. “ Mr. Oldville and lady.” 

The footman, who represented the next step in oral 
tradition, without which form of history the heathen 
world would never have known that Hannibal softened 
the rocks with vinegar, nor the Christian world that 
eleven thousand virgins dwelt in a German town the 
size of Putney, announced the pair as “Mr. and Mrs. 
Hautville.” 

“ I don’t know them, I think. Well, I will see them.” 

They 'entered, and the admiral stared a little, and 
wondered how this couple came together, the keen but 
plain old man, with clothes hanging on him, and the 
dashing beauty, with her dress in the height of the 
fashion, and her gauntleted hands. However, he bowed 
ceremoniously, and begged his visitors to be seated. 

Now the folding-doors were ajar, and the soi-disant 


64 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Mrs. Hautville peeped. She saw Bella Bruce at some 
distance, seated by the fire in a reverie. 

Judge that young lady’s astonishment when she looked 
up and observed a large, white, well-shaped hand, spark¬ 
ling with diamonds and rubies, beckoning her furtively. 

The owner of that sparkling hand soon heard a soft 
rustle of silk come towards the door; the very rustle, 
somehow, was eloquent, and betrayed love and timidity, 
and something innocent, yet subtle. The jewelled hand 
went in again, directly. 


; J 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


65 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Meantime, Mr. Oldfield began to tell tbe admiral who 
he was, and that he was come to remove a false impress 
sion about a client of his, Sir Charles Bassett. 

“ That, sir,” said the admiral, sternly, “ is a name we 
never mention here.” 

He rose, and went to the folding-doors, and deliberately 
closed them. 

The Somerset, thus defeated, bit her lip, and sat all of 
a heap, like a cat about to spring, looking sulky and 
vicious. 

Mr. Oldfield persisted, and, as he took the admiral's 
hint and lowered his voice, he was interrupted no more; 
but made a simple statement of those facts which are 
known to the reader. 

Admiral Bruce heard them, and admitted that the 
case was not quite so bad as he had thought. 

Then Mr. Oldfield proposed that Sir Charles should be 
readmitted. 

“No,” said the old admiral, firmly; “turn it how you 
will, it is too ugly; the bloom of the thing is gone. 
Why should my daughter take that woman's leavings ? 
Why should I give her pure heart to a man about 
town ? ” 

“ Because you will break it else,” said Miss Somerset, 
with affected politeness. 

“Give her credit for more dignity, madam, if you 
please,” replied Admiral Bruce, with equal politeness. 

“ Oh, bother dignity ! ” cried the Somerset. 

At this free phrase, from so well-dressed a lady, 

5 


66 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Admiral Bruce opened his eyes, and inquired of Oldfield, 
rather satirically, who was this lady, that did him the 
honor to interfere in his family affairs. 

Oldfield looked confused; but Somerset, full of mother- 
wit, was not to be caught napping. “ I’m a by-stander; 
and they always see clearer than the folk themselves. 
You are a man of honor, sir, and you are very clever at 
sea, no doubt, and a fighter, and all that; but you are no 
match for land-sharks. You are being made a dupe and 
a tool of. Who do you think wrote that anonymous 
letter to your daughter ? A friend of truth ? a friend of 
injured innocence ? Nothing of the sort. One Bichard 
Bassett: Sir Charles’s cousin. Here, Mr. Oldfield, please 
compare those two handwritings closely, and you will 
see I am right.” She put down the anonymous letter, 
and Bichard Bassett’s letter to herself; but she could 
not wait for Mr. Oldfield to compare the documents, 
now her tongue was set going. “ Yes, gentlemen, this is 
new to you; but you’ll find that little scheming rascal 
wrote them both, and with as base a motive, and as black 
a heart, as any other anonymous coward’s. His game is 
to make Sir Charles Bassett die childless, and so then 
this dirty fellow would inherit the estate; and, owing to 
you being so green, and swallowing an anonymous letter 
like pure water from the spring, he very nearly got his 
way. Sir Charles has been at death’s door along of all 
this.” 

“ Hush, madam! not so loud, please,” whispered 
Admiral Bruce, looking uneasily towards the folding- 
doors. 

“Why not?” bawled the Somerset. “The truth 

MAY BE BLAMED, BUT IT CAn’t BE SHAMED. I tell yOU 

that your precious letter brought Sir Charles Bassett to 
the brink of the grave. Soon as ever he got it, he came 
tearing in his cab to Miss Somerset’s house, and accused 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


67 


her of telling the lie, to keep him — and he might have 
known better, for the jade never did a sneaking thing in 
her life — but any way he thought it must be her doing, 
miscalled her like a dog, and raged at her dreadful, and 
at last, what with love, and fury, and despair, he had 
the terriblest fit you ever. Fell down as black as your 
hat, he did, and his eyes rolled, and his teeth gnashed, 
and he foamed at the mouth, and took four to hold him, 
and presently as white as a ghost, and given up for dead. 
No pulse for hours; and, when his life came back, his 
reason was gone.” 

“ Good heavens, madam! ” 

“ For a time it was: how he did rave! and ‘ Bella ’ 
the only name on his lips. And now he lies in his own 
house, as weak as water. Come, old gentleman, don’t 
you be too hard. You are not a child, like your daugh¬ 
ter. Take the world as it is. Do you think you will 
ever find a man of fortune who has not had a lady 
friend ? Why, every single gentleman in London, that 
can afford to keep a saddle-horse, has an article of that 
sort in some corner or other; and if he parts with her as 
soon as his banns are cried, that is all you can expect. 
Do you think any mother in Belgravia would make a 
row about that ? They are downier than you are; they 
would shrug their aristocratic shoulders, and decline to 
listen to the past lives of their sons-in-law — unless it 
was all in the newspapers, mind you.” 

“ If Belgravian mothers have mercenary minds, that 
is no reason why I should, whose cheeks have bronzed 
in the service of a virtuous Queen, and whose hairs have 
whitened in honor.” 

On receiving this broadside the Somerset altered her 
tone directly, and said, obsequiously, “ That is true, sir, 
and I beg your pardon for comparing you to the trash. 
But brave men are pitiful, you know. Then show your 


68 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


pity here. Pity a gentleman that repented his faults as 
soon as your daughter showed him there was a better 
love within reach, and now lies stung by an anonymous 
viper, and almost dying of love and mortification. And 
pity your own girl, that will soon lose her health, and 
perhaps her life, if you don’t give in.” 

“ She is not so weak, madam. She is in better spirits 
already.” 

“ Ay, but then she didn’t know what he had suffered 
for her. She does now, for I heard her moan, and she 
will die for him now, or else she will give you twice as 
many kisses as usual some day, and cry a bucketful over 
you, and then run away with her lover. I know women 
better than you do: I am one of the precious lot.” 

The admiral only replied with a look of superlative 
scorn. This incensed the Somerset, and that daring 
woman, whose ear was nearer to the door, and had 
caught sounds that escaped the men, actually turned the 
handle, and while her eye flashed defiance, her vigorous 
foot spurned the folding-doors wide open in half a 
moment. 

Bella Bruce lay with her head sideways on the table, 
and her hands extended, moaning and sobbing piteously 
for poor Sir Charles. 

“ For shame, madam, to expose my child! ” cried the 
admiral, bursting with indignation and grief. He rushed 
to her, and took her in his arms. 

She scarcely noticed him, for the moment he turned 
her, she caught sight of Miss Somerset, and recognized 
her face in a moment. “ Ah! the Sister of Charity ! ” 
she cried, and stretched out her hands to her with a look 
and a gesture so innocent, confiding, and imploring, that 
the Somerset, already much excited by her own elo¬ 
quence, took a turn not uncommon with termagants, and 
began to cry herself. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


69 


But she soon stopped that, for she saw her time was 
come to go, and avoid unpleasant explanations. She 
made a dart and secured the two letters. “ Settle it 
amongst yourselves,” said she, wheeling round and 
bestowing this advice on the whole party, then shot a 
sharp arrow at the admiral as she fled. “ If you must 
be a tool of Bichard Bassett, don’t be a tool and a dupe 
by halves; he is in love with her, too. Marry her to 
the blackguard, and then you will be sure to kill Sir 
Charles.” 

Having delivered this with such volubility that the 
words pattered out like a roll of musketry, she flounced 
out, with red cheeks and wet eyes, rushed down the 
stairs, and sprang into her carriage, whipped the ponies, 
and away at a pace that made the spectators stare. 

Mr. Oldfield muttered some excuses and retired more 
sedately. 

All this set Bella Bruce trembling and weeping, and 
her father was some time before he could bring her to 
anything like composure. Her first words, when she 
could find breath, were, “ He is innocent; he is unhappy. 
Oh that I could fly to him ! ” 

“ Innocent; what proof ? ” 

“ That brave lady said so.” 

“ Brave lady! A bold hussy. Most likely a friend of 
the woman Somerset, and a bird of the same feather. 
Sir Charles has done himself no good with me by sending 
such an emissary.” 

“ No, papa; it was the lawyer brought her, and then 
her own good heart made her burst out. Ah! she is not 
like me: she has courage. What a noble thing courage 
is, especially in a woman ! ” 

“ Pray did you hear the language of this noble lady ? ” 

“ Every word, nearly; and I shall never forget them. 
They were diamonds and pearls.” 


70 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Of the sort you can pick up at Billingsgate.” 

“'Ah, papa, she pleaded for him as I cannot plead, and 
yet I love him. It was true eloquence. Oh, how she 
made me shudder ! Only think — he had a fit, and lost 
his reason, and all for me! What shall I do ? What 
shall I do ? ” 

This brought on a fit of weeping. 

Her father pitied her, and gave her a crumb of sympa¬ 
thy : said he was sorry for Sir Charles. 

“But,” said he, recovering his resolution, “it cannot 
be helped. He must expiate his vices, like other men. 
Do, pray, pluck up a little spirit and sense. Now try 
and keep to the point; this woman came from him, and 
you say you heard her language and admire it. Quote 
me some of it.” 

“ She said he fell down as black as his hat, and his 
eyes rolled, and his poor teeth gnashed, and, — oh, my 
darling ! my darling! oh! oh! oh! ” 

“ There — there — I mean about other things.” 

Bella complied, but with a running accompaniment of 
the sweetest little sobs. 

“ She said I must be very green to swallow an anony¬ 
mous letter like spring water. Oh ! oh! ” 

“ ‘ Green ? ’ there was a word.” 

“ Oh, oh! But it is the right word. You can’t mend 
it. Try, and you will see you can’t. Of course I was 
green. Oh ! And she said, ‘ Every gentleman who can 
afford to keep a saddle-horse has a female friend till his 
banns are called in church.’ Oh, oh! ” 

“ A pretty statement to come to your ears.” 

“But if it is the truth! ‘The truth may be blamed, 
but it can’t be shamed.’ Ah! I’ll not forget that: I’ll 
pray every night I may remember those words of the 
brave lady. Oh! ” 

“ Yes; take her for your oracle.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


71 


“ I mean to. I always try to profit by my superiors. 
She has courage: I have none. I beat about the bush, 
and don’t make myself understood: she uses the very 
word. She said we have been the dupe and the tool of 
a little scheming rascal, an anonymous coward, with 
motives as base as his heart is black — oh, oh! Ay, 
that is the way to speak of such a man: I can’t do it 
myself, but I reverence the brave lady who can. And 
she wasn’t afraid even of you, dear papa. ‘Come, old 
gentleman,’ — ha! ha ! — ‘ take the world as it is; Bel- 
gravian mothers would not break both their hearts for 
what is past and gone.’ What hard good sense ! a thing 
I always did admire: because I’ve got none. But her 
heart is not hard: after all her words of fire that went 
so straight, instead of beating the bush, she ended by 
crying for me. Oh, oh, oh! Bless her, bless her! If 
ever there was a good woman in the world, that is one. 
She was not born a lady, I’m afraid; but that is nothing: 
she was born a woman, and I mean to make her acquaint¬ 
ance, and take her for my example in all things. No, 
dear papa, women are not so pitiful to women, without 
cause. She is almost a stranger, yet she cried for me. 
Can you be harder to me than she is ? No; pity your 
poor girl, who will lose her health, and perhaps her life. 
Pity poor Charles, stung by an anonymous viper, and 
laid on a bed of sickness for me — oh, oh, oh! ” 

“ I do pity you, Bella. When you cry like this, my 
heart bleeds.” 

“ I’ll try not to cry, papa. Oh, oh ! ” 

“ But, most of all, I pity your infatuation, your blind¬ 
ness. Poor innocent dove, that looks at others by the 
light of her own goodness, and so sees all manner of 
virtues in a brazen hussy. Now answer me one plain 
question. You called her ‘the Sister.’ Is she not the 
same woman that played the Sister of Charity ? ” 


72 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Bella blushed to the temples, and said, hesitatingly, 
she was not quite sure. 

“ Come, Bella. I thought you were going to imitate 
the jade and not beat about the bush. Yes, or no ? ” 

“ The features are very like.” 

“Bella, you know it is the same woman. You recog¬ 
nized her in a moment. That speaks volumes. But she 
shall find I am not to be made ‘ a dupe and a tool of ’ 
quite so easily as she thinks. I’ll tell you what — this 
is some professional actress Sir Charles has hired to 
waylay you. Little simpleton ! ” 

He said no more at that time: but, after dinner, he 
ruminated, and took a very serious, indeed almost a 
maritime, view of the crisis. “I’m overmatched, now,” 
thought he. “They will cut my sloop out under the 
very guns of the flag-ship, if we stay much longer in 
this port — a lawyer against me, and a woman, too; 
there’s nothing to be done but heave anchor, hoist sail, 
and run for it.” 

He sent off a foreign telegram, and then went up-stairs. 
“ Bella, my dear,” said he, “ pack up your clothes for a 
journey. We start to-morrow.” 

“ A journey, papa! A long one ? ” 

“No. We shan’t double the Horn this time.” 

“ Brighton ? Paris ? ” 

“ Oh, farther than that.” 

“The grave : that is the journey I should like to take.” 

“ So you shall some day; but, just now, it is a foreign 
port you are bound for. Go and pack.” 

“I obey.” And she was creeping off; but he called 
her back and kissed her, and said, “Now, I’ll tell you 
where you are going; but you must promise me solemnly 
not to write one line to Sir Charles.” 

She promised, but cried as soon as she had promised; 
whereat the admiral inferred he had done wisely to 
exact the promise. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


73 


“Well, my dear/’ said he, “we are going to Baden. 
Your Aunt Molineux is there. She is a woman of great 
delicacy and prudence, and has daughters of her own all 
well married, thanks to her motherly care. She will 
bring you to your senses better than I can.” 

Next evening they left England, by the mail; and the 
day after, Richard Bassett learned this through his serv¬ 
ant, and went home triumphant, and, indeed, wondering 
at his success. He ascribed it, however, to the Nemesis 
which dogs the heels of those who inherit the estate of 
another. 

Such was the only moral reflection he made, though 
the business in general, and particularly his share in it, 
admitted of several. 

Miss Somerset also heard of it, and told Mr. Oldfield: 
he told Sir Charles Bassett. 

That gentleman sighed deeply, and said nothing. He 
had lost all hope. 

The whole matter appeared stagnant for about ten 
days ; and then a delicate hand stirred the dead waters 
cautiously. Mr. Oldfield, of all people in the world, 
received a short letter from Bella Bruce. 

Konigsberg Hotel, Baden. 

Miss Bruce presents her compliments to Mr. Oldfield, and 
will feel much obliged if he will send her the name and ad¬ 
dress of the brave lady who accompanied him to her father’s 
house. 

Miss Bruce desires to thank that lady personally for her 
noble defence of one with whom it would be improper for her 
to communicate ; but she can never be indifferent to his welfare, 
nor hear of his sufferings without deep sorrow. 

“ Confound it! ” said Solomon Oldfield, “ what am I to 
do? I mustn’t tell her it is Miss Somerset.” So the 
wary lawyer had a copy of the letter made, and sent to 
Miss Somerset for instructions. 


74 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Miss Somerset sent for Mr. Marsh, who was now more 
at her beck and call than ever; and told him she had a 
ticklish letter to write. “ I can talk with the best,” said 
she; “but the moment I sit down and take up a pen, 
something cold runs up my shoulder, and then down my 
backbone, and I’m palsied: now you are always writing, 
and can’t say Bo to a goose, in company. Let us mix 
ourselves; I’ll walk about and speak my mind; and then 
you put down the cream, and send it.” 

From this ingenious process resulted the following 
composition: 

She whom Miss Bruce is good enough to call “the brave 
lady,” happened to know the truth, and that tempted her to try 
and baffle an anonymous slanderer, who was ruining the hap¬ 
piness of a lady and gentleman. Being a person of warm 
impulses, she went great lengths; but she now wishes to retire 
into the shade. She is flattered by Miss Bruce’s desire to know 
her, and some day, perhaps, may remind her of it; but, at 
present, she must deny herself that honor. If her reasons 
were known, Miss Bruce would not be offended, nor hurt; she 
would entirely approve them. 

Soon after this, as Sir Charles Bassett sat by the fire, 
disconsolate, his servant told him a lady wanted to see 
him. 

“Who is it?” 

“ Don’t know, Sir Charles; but it is a kind of a sort 
of a nun, Sir Charles.” 

“ Oh, a Sister of Charity! Perhaps the one that 
nursed me. Admit her, by all means.” The Sister came 
in. She had a large veil on. Sir Charles received her 
with profound respect, and thanked her, with some little 
hesitation, for her kind attention to him. 

She stopped him by saying that was merely her duty. 
“ But,” said she softly, “ words fell from you, on the bed 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


75 


of sickness, that touched my heart; and, besides, I 
happen to know the lady.” 

“You know my Bella!” cried Sir Charles. “Ah, 
then, no wonder you speak so kindly : you can feel what 
I have lost. She has left England to avoid me.” 

“All the better. Where she is, the door cannot be 
closed in your face. She is at Baden. Follow her there. 
She has heard the truth from Mr. Oldfield, and she 
knows who wrote the anonymous letter.” 

“ And who did ? ” 

“ Mr. Bichard Bassett.” 

This amazed Sir Charles. 

“ The scoundrel! ” said he, after a long silence. 

“Well, then, why let that fellow defeat you for his 
own ends ? I would go, at once, to Baden. Your leav¬ 
ing England would be one more proof to her that she 
has no rival. Stick to her like a man, sir, and you will 
win her, I tell you.” 

These words from a nun amazed and fired him. He 
rose from his chair, flushed with sudden hope and ardor. 
“ I’ll leave for Baden to-morrow morning.” 

The Sister rose to retire. 

“ Ho, no,” cried Sir Charles, “ I have not thanked you. 
I ought to go down on my knees and bless you for all 
this. To whom am I so indebted ? ” 

“Ho matter, sir.” 

“But it does matter. You nursed me, and perhaps saved 
my life, and now you give me back the hopes that make 
life sweet. You will not trust me with your name ? ” 

“ We have no name.” 

“Your voice at times sounds very like — no, I will 
not affront you by such a comparison.” 

“ Fm her sister,” said she like lightning. 

This announcement staggered Sir Charles, and he was 
silent and uncomfortable. It gave him a chill. 


76 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


The Sister watched him keenly, but said nothing. 

Sir Charles did not know what to say, so he asked to 
see her face. “ It must be as beautiful as your heart.” 

The sister shook her head. “ My face has been dis¬ 
figured by a frightful disorder.” 

Sir Charles uttered an ejaculation of regret and pity. 

“ I could not bear to show it to one who esteems me 
as you seem to do. But perhaps it will not always 
be so.” 

“I hope not. You are young, and Heaven is good. 
Can I do nothing for you, who have done so much for 
me ? ” 

“ Nothing — unless,” said she, feigning vast timidity, 
“you could spare me that ring of yours, as a remem¬ 
brance of the part I have played in this affair.” 

Sir Charles colored. It was a ruby of the purest 
water, and had been two centuries in his family. He col¬ 
ored, but was too fine a gentleman to hesitate. He said, 
“ By all means : but it is a poor thing to offer yow.” 

“ I shall value it very much.” 

“Say no more. I am fortunate in having anything 
you deign to accept.” 

And so the ring changed hands. 

The Sister now put it on her middle finger, and held 
up her hand, and her bright eyes glanced at it, through 
her veil, with that delight which her sex in general feel 
at the possession of a new bauble. She recovered her¬ 
self, however, and told him, soberly, the ring should 
return to his family at her death, if not before. 

“I will give you a piece of advice for it,” said she. 
“Miss Bruce has foxy hair, and she is very timid. 
Don’t you take her advice about commanding her. She 
would like to be your slave — don’t let her. Coax her 
to speak her mind. Make a friend of her. Don’t you 
put her to this — that she must displease you or else 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 77 

deceive you. She might choose wrong, especially with 
that colored hair.” 

“ It is not in her nature to deceive.” 

“ It is not in her nature to displease. Excuse me ; I 
am too fanciful, and look at women too close. But 
I know your happiness depends on her: all your eggs 
are in that one basket. Well, I have told you how to 
carry the basket. Good-by.” 

Sir Charles saw her out, and bowed respectfully to her 
in the hall, while his servant opened the street door. 
He did her this homage as his benefactress. 

When the admiral and Miss Bruce reached Baden, 
Mrs. Molineux was away on a visit; and this disap¬ 
pointed Admiral Bruce, who had counted on her assist¬ 
ance to manage and comfort Bella. Bella needed the 
latter very much; a glance at her pale, pensive, lovely 
face was enough to show that sorrow was rooted at her 
heart. She was subjected to no restraint, but kept the 
house of her own accord, thinking, as persons of her 
age are apt to do, that her whole history must be written 
in her face. Still, of course, she did go out sometimes; 
and one cold but bright afternoon she was strolling 
languidly on the parade, when all in a moment she met 
Sir Charles Bassett face to face. 

She gave an eloquent scream, and turned pale a 
moment, and then the hot blood came rushing, and then 
it retired, and she stood at bay, with heaving bosom, and 
great eyes. 

Sir Charles held out both hands pathetically. “ Don’t 
you be afraid of me.” 

When she found he was so afraid of offending her, 
she became more courageous. “How dare you come 
here ? ” said she, but with more curiosity than violence, 
for it had been her dream of hope he would come. 


78 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“How could I keep away, when I heard you were 
here ? ” 

“You must not speak to me, sir; I am forbidden.” 

“ Pray do not condemn me, unheard.” 

“ If I listen to you, I shall believe you. I won’t hear 
a word. Gentlemen can do things that ladies cannot 
even speak about. Talk to my Aunt Molineux: our fate 
depends on her. This will teach you not to be so 
wicked. What business have gentlemen to be so wicked ? 
Ladies are not. No, it is no use; I will not hear a sylla¬ 
ble. I am ashamed to be seen speaking to you; you are 
a bad character. Oh, Charles, is it true you had a fit ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“And you have been very ill ? You look ill.” 

“I am better now, dearest.” 

“‘Dearest!’ Don’t call me names. How dare you 
keep speaking to me when I request you not! ” 

“But I can’t excuse myself, and obtain my pardon, 
and recover your love, unless I am allowed to speak.” 

“Oh, you can speak to my Aunt Molineux, and she 
will read you a fine lesson.” 

“ Where is she ? ” 

“Nobody knows. But there is her house, the one with 
the iron gate. Get her ear first, if you really love me; 
and don’t you ever waylay me again. If you do, I shall 
say something rude to you, sir. Oh, I’m so happy ! ” 

Having let this out, she hid her face with her hands, 
and fled like the very wind. 

At dinner-time she was in high spirits. 

The admiral congratulated her. “ Brava, Bell! Youth, 
and health, and a foreign air, will soon cure you of that 
folly.” 

Bella blushed deeply, and said nothing. The truth 
struggled within her, too, but she shrank from giving 
pain and receiving expostulation. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


79 


She kept the house, though, for two days, partly out 
of modesty, partly out of an honest and pious desire to 
obey her father as much as she could. 

The third day, Mrs. Molineux arrived, and sent over 
to the admiral. 

He invited Bella to come with him. She consented 
eagerly ; but was so long in dressing that he threatened 
to go without her. She implored him not to do that; 
and, after a monstrous delay, the motive of which the 
reader may perhaps divine, father and daughter called 
on Mrs. Molineux. She received them very affection¬ 
ately. But when the admiral, with some hesitation, 
began to enter on the great subject, she said quietly, 
“ Bella, my dear, go for a walk, and come back to me in 
half an hour.” 

“ Aunt Molineux ! ” said Bella, extending both her 
hands imploringly to that lady. 

Mrs. Molineux was proof against this blandishment, 
and Bella had to go. 

When she was gone, this lady, who both as wife and 
mother was literally a model, rather astonished her 
brother the admiral. She said, “ I am sorry to tell you 
that you have conducted this matter with perfect impro¬ 
priety, both you and Bella. She had no business to show 
you that anonymous letter; and, when she did show it 
you, you should have taken it from her, and told her not 
to believe a word of it.” 

" And married my daughter to a libertine! Why, 
Charlotte, I am ashamed of you.” 

Mrs. Molineux colored high, but she kept her temper, 
and ignored the interruption. “ Then, if you decided to 
go into so indelicate a question at all (and really you 
were not bound to do so on anonymous information), why 
then you should have sent for Sir Charles, and given him 
the letter, and put him on his honor to tell you the truth. 


80 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


He would have told you the fact, instead of a garbled 
version; and the fact is that, before he knew Bella, he 
had a connection which he prepared to dissolve, on terms 
very honorable to himself, as soon as he engaged himself 
to your daughter. What is there in that ? Why, it is 
common, universal, amongst men of fashion. I am so 
vexed it ever came to Bella’s knowledge; really it is 
dreadful to me, as a mother, that such a thing should 
have been discussed before that child. Complete inno¬ 
cence means complete ignorance, and that is how all my 
girls went to their husbands. However, what we must 
do now is to tell her Sir Charles has satisfied me he was 
not to blame; and, after that, the subject must never be 
recurred to. Sir Charles has promised me never to 
mention it, and no more shall Bella. And now, my dear 
John, let me congratulate you. Your daughter has a 
high-minded lover, who adores her, with a fine estate. 
He has been crying to me, poor fellow, as men will to a 
woman of my age; and, if you have any respect for my 
judgment, ask him to dinner.” 

She added that it might be as well if, after dinner, he 
were to take a little nap. 

Admiral Bruce did not fall into these views without 
discussion. I spare the reader the dialogue, since he 
yielded at last, only he stipulated that his sister should 
do the dinner, and the subsequent siesta. 

Bella returned, looking very wistful and anxious. 

“ Come here, niece,” said Mrs. Molineux. “ Kneel you 
at my knee. How look me in the face. Sir Charles has 
loved you, and you only, from the day he first saw you. 
He loves you now as much as ever. Do you love him ? ” 

“ Oh, aunt! aunt! ” A shower of kisses, and a tear or 
two. 

“ That is enough. Then dry your eyes, and dress your 
beautiful hair a little better than that; for he dines with 
me to-day.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


81 


Who so bright and happy now as Bella Bruce ? 

The dreaded aunt did not stop there. She held that, 
after the peep into real life Bella Bruce had obtained, 
for want of a mother’s vigilance, she ought to be a wife 
as soon as possible. So she gave Sir Charles a hint that 
Baden was a very good place to be married in; and, from 
that moment, Sir Charles gave Bella and her father no 
rest till they consented. 

Little did Bichard Bassett in England dream what was 
going on at Baden. He now surveyed the chimneys of 
Huntercombe Hall with resignation, and even with grow¬ 
ing complacency, as chimneys that would one day be his, 
since their owner would not be in a hurry to love again. 
He shot Sir Charles’s pheasants whenever they strayed 
into his hedgerows, and he lived moderately, and studied 
health. In a word, content with the result of his anony¬ 
mous letter, he confined himself now to cannily outliving 
the wrongful heir, his cousin. 

One fine frosty day, the chimneys of Huntercombe 
began to show signs of life; vertical columns of blue 
smoke rose in the air, one after another, till at last there 
were about forty going. 

Old servants flowed down from London. New ones 
trickled in with their boxes from the country. Carriages 
were drawn out into the stable-yard, horses exercised, 
and a whisper ran that Sir Charles was coming to live 
on his estates, and not alone. 

Bichard Bassett went about, inquiring cautiously. 

The rumor spread, and was confirmed by some little 
facts. 

At last, one fine day, when the chimneys were all 
smoking, the church bells began to peal. 

Bichard Bassett heard, and went out, scowling deeply. 
He found the village all agog with expectation. 

Presently there was a loud cheer from the steeple, and 
6 


82 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


a flag floated from the top of Huntercombe House. 
Murmurs. Distant cheers. Approaching cheers. The 
clatter of horses’ feet. The roll of wheels. Hunter¬ 
combe gates flung wide open by a cluster of grooms and 
keepers. 

Then on came two outriders, ushered by loud hurrahs, 
and followed by a carriage and four that dashed through 
the village, amidst peals of delight from the villagers. 
The carriage was open, and in it sat Sir Charles and 
Bella Bassett. She was lovelier than ever; she dazzled 
the very air with her beauty and her glorious hair. The 
hurrahs of the villagers made her heart beat; she pressed 
Sir Charles’s hand tenderly, and literally shone with joy 
and pride. And so she swept past Bichard Bassett j she 
saw him directly, shuddered a moment, and half clung to 
her husband, then on again, and passed through the open 
gates amidst loud cheers. She alighted in her own hall, 
and walked, nodding and smiling sunnily, through two 
files of domestics and retainers; and thought no more of 
Bichard Bassett than some bright bird that has flown 
over a rattlesnake and glanced down at him. 

But a gorgeous bird cannot always be flying. A 
snake can sometimes creep under her perch, and glare and 
keep hissing, till she shudders, and droops, and lays her 
plumage in the dust. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


83 


CHAPTER IX. 

Generally deliberate crimes are followed by some 
great punishment, but they are also often attended in 
their course by briefer chastisements, single strokes from 
the whip that holds the round dozen in reserve. These 
precursors of the grand expiation are sharp but kindly 
lashes, for they tend to whip the man out of the wrong 
road. 

Such a stroke fell on Richard Bassett; he saw Bella 
Bruce sweep past him, clinging to her husband, and 
shuddering at himself. For this, then, he had plotted, 
and intrigued, and written an anonymous letter. The 
only woman he had ever loved at all went past him with 
a look of aversion, and was his enemy’s wife, and would 
soon be the mother of that enemy’s children, and blot 
him forever out of the coveted inheritance. 

The man crept home, and sat by his little fireside, 
crushed. Indeed, from that hour he disappeared and 
drank his bitter cup alone. 

After awhile it transpired in the village that he was 
very ill. The clergyman went to visit him, but was not 
admitted. The only person who got to see him was his 
friend Wheeler, a small but sharp attorney, by whose 
advice he acted in country matters. This Wheeler was 
very fond of shooting, and could not get a crack at a 
pheasant, except on Highmore; and that was a bond 
between him and its proprietor. It was Wheeler who 
had first told Bassett not to despair of possessing the 
estates, since they had inserted Sir Charles’s heir-at-law 
in the entail. 


8d 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


This Wheeler found him now so shrunk in body, so 
pale and haggard in face, and dejected in mind, that he 
was really shocked, and asked leave to send a doctor from 
the neighboring town. 

“What to do?” said Richard, moodily. “It’s my 
mind, it’s not my body. Ah, Wheeler, it is all over. I 
and mine shall never have Huntercombe now.” 

“ I’ll tell you what it is,” said Wheeler, almost angrily, 
“ you will have six feet by two of it before long if you 
go on this way. Was ever such folly, to fret yourself 
out of this jolly world because you can’t get one particu¬ 
lar slice of its upper crust! Why, one bit of land is as 
good as another; and I’ll show you how to get land — in 
this neighborhood too; ay, right under Sir Charles’s 
nose.” 

“ Show me that,” said Bassett, gloomily and incredu¬ 
lously. 

“Leave off moping, then, and I will. I advise the 
bank, you know, and ‘ Splatchett’s ’ farm is mortgaged 
up to the eyes. It is not the only one. I go to the 
village inns, and pick up all the gossip I hear there.” 

“ How am I to find money to buy land ? ” 

“ I’ll put you up to that too; but you must leave off 
moping. Hang it, man, never say die! There are plenty 
of chances on the card. Get your color back, and marry 
a girl with money, and turn that into land. The first 
thing is to leave off grizzling. Why, you are playing 
the enemy’s game; that can’t be right, can it ? ” 

This remark was the first that really roused the sick 
man. 

Wheeler had too few clients to lose one. He now 
visited Bassett almost daily, and, being himself full of 
schemes and inventions, he got Bassett, by degrees, out 
of his lethargy, and he emerged into daylight again; but 
he looked thin, and yellow as a guinea, and he had turned 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


85 


miser. He kept but one servant, and fed her and him¬ 
self at Sir Charles Bassett’s expense. He wired that 
gentleman’s hares and rabbits in his own hedges. He 
went out with his gun every sunny afternoon, and shot a 
brace or two of pheasants, without disturbing the rest; 
for he took no dog with him to run and yelp, but a little 
boy, who quietly tapped the hedgerows and walked the 
sunny banks and shaws. They never came home empty- 
handed. 

But on those rarer occasions when Sir Charles and his 
friends beat the Bassett woods, Bichard was sure to 
make a large bag; for he was a cool unerring shot, and 
flushed the birds in hedgerows, slips of underwood, etc., 
to which the fairer sportsmen had driven them. 

These birds, and the surplus hares, he always sold in 
the market town, and put the money into a box. The 
rabbits he ate, and also squirrels, and, above all, young 
hedgehogs; a gypsy taught him how to cook them, viz., 
by enclosing them in clay, and baking them in wood 
embers; then the bristles adhere to the burnt clay, and 
the meat is juicy. He was his own gardener, and vegeta¬ 
bles cost him next to nothing. 

So he went on through all the winter months, and by 
the spring his health and strength were restored. Then 
he turned woodman ; cut down every stick of timber in 
a little wood near his house, and sold it; and then set to 
work to grub up the roots for fires, and cleared it for 
tillage. The sum he received for the wood was much 
more than he expected, and this he made a note of. 

He had a strong body that could work hard all day, a 
big hate, and a mania for the possession of land; and so 
he led a truly Spartan life, and everybody in the village 
said he was mad. 

Whilst he led this hard life, Sir Charles and Lady 
Bassett were the gayest of the gay. She was the beauty 


86 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


and the bride. Visits and invitations poured in from 
every part of the county. Sir Charles, flattered by the 
homage paid to his beloved, made himself younger and 
less fastidious to indulge her; and the happy pair 
often drove twelve miles to dinner, and twenty to dine 
and sleep — an excellent custom in that county, one of 
whose favorite toasts is worth recording — “ May you 

DINE WHERE YOU PLEASE, AND SLEEP WHERE YOU DINE.” 

They were at every ball, and gave one or two 
themselves. 

Above all, they enjoyed society in that delightful 
form which is confined to large houses. They would 
have numerous and well-assorted visitors staying at the 
house for a week or so, and all dining at a huge round 
table. But two o’clock p.m. was the time to see how 
hosts and guests enjoyed themselves: the hall-door of 
Huntercombe was approached by a flight of stone steps, 
easy of ascent, and about twenty-four feet wide; at the 
riding-hour the county ladies used to come, one after 
another, holding up their riding-habits with one hand, 
and perch about this gigantic flight of steps, like pea¬ 
cocks, and chatter like jays, while the servants walked 
their horses about the gravel esplanade, and the four-in- 
hand waited a little in the rear. A fine champing of bits 
and fidgeting of thoroughbreds there was, till all were 
ready; then the ladies would each put out her little foot 
with charming nonchalance, to the nearest gentleman or 
groom, with a slight preference for the grooms, who were 
more practised: the man lifted, the lady sprang at the 
same time, and into her saddle like a bird — Lady Bassett 
on a very quiet pony, or in the carriage to please some 
dowager — and away they clattered in high spirits, a 
regular cavalcade. It was a hunting county, and the 
ladies rode well; light hand on the snaffle, the curb 
reserved for cases of necessity; and when they had 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


87 


patted the horse on the neck at starting, as all these 
coaxing creatures must, they rode him with that well- 
bred ease and unconsciousness of being on a horse which 
distinguishes ladies who have ridden all their lives from 
the gawky snobbesses in Hyde Park, who ride, if riding 
it can be called, with their elbows uncouthly fastened to 
their sides as if by a rope, their hands at the pit of their 
stomachs, and both those hands, as heavy as a house¬ 
maid’s, sawing the poor horse with curb and snaffle at 
once; while the whole body breathes pretension and 
affectation, and seems to say, “Look at me; I am on 
horseback! Be startled at that — as I am ! and I have 
had lessons from a riding-master; he has taught me how 
a lady should ride — in his opinion.” 

The champing, the pawing, the mounting, and the 
clattering of these bright cavalcades, with the music of 
the women excited by motion, furnished a picture of 
wealth, and gayety, and happy country life, that cheered 
the whole neighborhood, and contrasted strangely with 
the stern Spartan life of him who had persuaded him¬ 
self he was the rightful owner of Huntercombe Hall. 

Sir Charles Bassett was a magistrate, and soon found 
himself a bad one. One day he made a little mistake, 
which, owing to his popularity, was very gently handled 
by the bench at their weekly meeting; but still Sir 
Charles was ashamed and mortified. He wrote directly 
to Oldfield for law books, and that gentleman sent him 
an excellent selection, bound in smooth calf. 

Sir Charles now studied three hours every day, except 
hunting days, when no squire can work; and, as his 
study was his justice-room, he took care to find an 
authority before he acted. He was naturally humane, 
and rustic offenders, especially poachers and runaway 
farm-servants, used to think themselves fortunate if they 
were taken before him, and not before Squire Powys, 


88 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


who was sure to give them the sharp edge of the law. So 
now Sir Charles was useful as well as ornamental. 

Thus passed fourteen months of happiness, with only 
one little cloud; there was no sign yet of a son and heir. 
But, let a man be ever so powerful, it is an awkward 
thing to have a bitter inveterate enemy at his door 
watching for a chance: Sir Charles began to realize this 
in the sixteenth month of his wedded bliss. A small 
estate called “ Splatchett’s ” lay on his north side, and a 
marginal strip of this property ran right into a wood of 
his. This strip was wretched land, and the owner, 
unable to rise any white crop on it, had planted it with 
larches. 

Sir Charles had made him a liberal offer for “ Splatch¬ 
ett’s ” about six years ago; but he had refused point- 
blank, being then in good circumstances. 

Sir Charles now received a hint from one of his own 
gamekeepers that the old farmer was in a bad way, and 
talked of selling. So Sir Charles called on him, and 
asked him if he would sell “ Splatchett’s ” now. “ Why, 
I can’t sell it twice,” said the old man testily. “ You ha’ 
got it, hain’t ye ? ” It turned out that Bichard Bassett 
had been beforehand. The bank had pressed for their 
money, and threatened foreclosure; then Bassett had 
stepped in with a good price, and, although the convey¬ 
ance was not signed, a stamped agreement was, and 
neither vendor nor purchaser could go back. What made 
it more galling, the proprietor was not aware of the feud 
between the Bassetts, and had thought to please Sir 
Charles by selling to one of his name. 

Sir Charles Bassett went home seriously vexed; he did 
not mean to tell his wife, but love’s eye read his face, 
love’s arm went round his neck, and love’s soft voice and 
wistful eyes soon coaxed it out of him. “ Dear Charles,” 
said she, “ never mind. It is mortifying: but think how 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


89 


much you have, and how little that wicked man has. 
Let him have that farm: he has lost his self-respect, and 
that is worth a great many farms. For my part, I pity 
the poor wretch. Let him try to annoy you; your wife 
will try against him, to make you happy, my own 
beloved! and I think I may prove as strong as Mr. 
Bassett,” said she, with a look of inspiration. 

Her sweet and tender sympathy soon healed so slight 
a scratch. 

But they had not done with “ Splatchett’s ” yet. Just 
after Christmas, Sir Charles invited three gentlemen to 
beat his more distant preserves. Their guns bellowed in 
quick succession through the woods, and at last they 
reached North Wood. Here they expected splendid 
shooting, as a great many cock pheasants had already 
been seen running ahead. 

But when they got to the end of the wood they found 
Lawyer Wheeler standing against a tree just within 
" Splatchett’s ” boundary; and one of their own beaters 
reported that two boys were stationed in the road, each 
tapping two sticks together to confine the pheasants to 
that strip of land, on which the low larches and high 
grass afforded a strong covert. 

Sir Charles halted on his side of the boundary. 

Then Wheeler told his man to beat, and up got the 
cock-pheasants, one after another. Whenever a pheasant 
whirred up, the man left off beating. 

The lawyer knocked down four brace in no time, and 
those that escaped him, and turned back for the wood, 
were brought down by Bassett, firing from the hard road. 
Only those were spared that flew northwards into 
“ Splatchett’s.” It was a veritable slaughter, planned 
with judgment, and carried out in a most ungentleman¬ 
like and unsportsmanlike manner. 

It goaded Sir Charles beyond his patience. After 


90 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


several vain efforts to restrain himself he shouldered his 
gun, and, followed by his friends, went bursting through 
the larches to Richard Bassett. 

“ Mr. Bassett,” said he, “ this is most ungentlemanly 
conduct.” 

“ What is the matter, sir ? Am I on your ground ? ” 

“No; but you are taking a mean advantage of our 
being out. Who ever heard of a gentleman beating his 
boundaries the very day a neighbor was out shooting, and 
filling them with his game ? ” 

“ Oh, that is it, is it ? When justice is against you, 
you can talk of law; and when law is against you, you 
appeal to justice. Let us be in one story or the other, 
please. The Huntercombe estates belong to me, by 
birth. You have got them by legal trickery. Keep 
them, whilst you live. They will come to me one day , you 
know. Meantime, leave me my little estate of ‘ Splatch- 
ett’s.’ For shame, sir; you have robbed me of my 
inheritance and my sweetheart; do you grudge me a few 
cock-pheasants ? Why, you have made me so poor, they 
are an object to me now.” 

“ Oh! ” said Sir Charles, “ if you are stealing my game 
to keep body and soul together, I pity you. In that 
case, perhaps you will let my friends help you fill your 
larder.” 

Richard Bassett hesitated a moment; but Wheeler, who 
had drawn near at the sound of the raised voices, made 
him a signal to assent. 

“By all means,” said he adroitly. “Mr. Markham, 
your father often shot with mine over the Bassett 
estates. You are welcome to poor little ‘ Splatchett’s/ 
Keep your men off, Sir Charles; they are noisy bunglers, 
and do more harm than good. Here, Tom! Bill! beat 
for the gentlemen. They shall have the sport. I only 
want the birds.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


91 


Sir Charles drew back, and saw pheasant after pheas¬ 
ant thunder and whiz into the air, then collapse at a 
report, and fall like lead, followed by a shower of 
feathers. 

His friends seemed to be deserting him for Richard 
Bassett. He left them in charge of his keepers, and 
went slowly home. 

He said nothing to Lady Bassett till night, and she 
got it all from him. She was very indignant at many of 
the things, but as for Sir Charles, all his cousin’s arrows 
glided off that high-minded gentleman, except one, and 
that quivered in his heart. “ Yes, Bella,” said he, “ he 
told me he should inherit these estates. That is be¬ 
cause we are not blessed with children.” 

Lady Bassett sighed. “But we shall be some day, 
shall we not ? ” 

“ God knows,” said Sir Charles gloomily. “ I wonder 
whether there was really anything unfair done on our 
side, when the entail was cut off ? ” 

“ Is that likely, dearest ? why ? ” 

“ Heaven seems to be on his side.” 

“ On the side of a wicked man ? ” 

“ But he may be the father of innocent children.” 

“ Why, he is not even married.” 

“ He will marry. He will not throw a chance away. 
It makes my head dizzy, and my heart sick. Bella, now 
I can understand two enemies meeting alone in some 
solitary place, and one killing the other in a moment of 
rage; for when this scoundrel insulted me, I remembered 
his anonymous letter, and all his relentless malice. 
Bella, I could have raised my gun and shot him like a 
weasel.” 

Lady Bassett screamed faintly, and flung her arms 
round his neck. “Oh, Charles, pray to God against 
such thoughts! You shall never go near that man 


92 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


again. Don’t think of our one disappointment: think 
of all the blessings we enjoy. Never mind that wretched 
man’s hate. Think of your wife’s love. Have I not 
more power to make you happy than he has to afflict 
you, my adored ? ” These sweet words were accompa¬ 
nied by a wife’s divine caresses, with the honey of her 
voice, and the liquid sunshine of her loving eyes. Sir 
Charles slept peacefully that night, and forgot his one 
grief and his one enemy for a time. 

Not so Lady Bassett. She lay awake all night and 
thought deeply of Richard Bassett and “his unrelenting, 
impenitent malice.” Women of her fine fibre, when 
they think long and earnestly on one thing, have often 
divinations. The dark future seems to be lit a moment 
at a time by flashes of lightning, and they discern the 
indistinct forms of events to come. And so it was with 
Lady Bassett; in the stilly night a terror of the future 
and of Richard Bassett crept over her; a terror dispro- 
portioned to his past acts and apparent power. Perhaps 
she was oppressed by having an enemy, — she who was 
born to be loved: at all events she was full of feminine 
divinations and forebodings, and saw, by flashes, many 
a poisoned arrow fly from that quiver, and strike the 
beloved breast. It had already discharged one that had 
parted them for a time, and nearly killed Sir Charles. 

Daylight cleared away much of this dark terror, but 
left a sober dread and a strange resolution. This timid 
creature, stimulated by love, determined to watch the 
foe, and defend her husband with all her little power. 
All manner of devices passed through her head, but were 
rejected, because, if Love said “Do wonders,” Timidity 
said “ Do nothing that you have not seen other wives do.” 
So she remained, scheming, and longing, and fearing, 
and passive, all day. But the next day she conceived a 
vague idea, and, all in a heat, rang for her maid. While 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


93 


the maid was coming, she fell to blushing at her own 
boldness, and, just as the maid opened the door, her 
thermometer fell so low that — she sent her up-stairs for 
a piece of work. Oh, lame and impotent conclusion ! 

Just before luncheon she chanced to look through a 
window, and to see the head gamekeeper crossing the 
park, and coming to the house. Now this was the very 
man she wanted to speak to. The sudden temptation 
surprised her out of her timidity. She rang the bell 
again, and sent for the man. 

That Colossus wondered in his mind, and felt uneasy 
at an invitation so novel. However, he clattered into 
the morning-room in his velveteen coat and leathern 
gaiters up to his thigh, pulled his front hair, bobbed his 
head, and then stood firm in body as him of Rhodes, but 
in mind much abashed at finding himself in her lady¬ 
ship’s presence. 

The lady, however, did not prove so very terrible. 
“ May I inquire your name, sir ? ” said she very re¬ 
spectfully. 

“ Moses Moss, my lady.” 

“Mr. Moss, I wish to ask you a question or two. 
May I?” 

“ That you may, my lady.” 

“ I want you to explain, if you will be so good, how 
the proprietor of 1 Splatchett’s ’ can shoot all Sir Charles’s 
pheasants.” 

“ Lord! my lady, we ain’t come down to that. But he 
do shoot more than his share, that’s sure an’ sartin. 
Well, my lady, if you please, game is just like Chris¬ 
tians, — it will make for sunny spots. Highmore have 
got a many of them there, with good cover, so we breeds 
for he. As for ‘ Splatchett’s,’ that don’t hurt we, my 
lady; it is all arable land and dead hedges with no 
bottom; only there’s one little tongue of it runs into 


94 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


North Wood, and planted with larch; and, if you please, 
my lady, there is always a kind of coarse grass grows 
under young larches, and makes a strong cover for game. 
So, beat North Wood which way you will, them artful 
old cocks will run ahead of ye, or double back into them 
larches; and you see Mr. Bassett is not a gentleman like 
Sir Charles: he is always a-mouching about, and the 
biggest poacher in the parish, and so he drops on to ’em 
out of bounds.” 

“ Is there no way of stopping all this, sir ? ” 

a We might station a dozen beaters ahead; they would 
most likely get shot; but I don’t think as they’d mind 
that much, if you had set your heart on it, my lady. 
Dall’d if I would, for one! ” 

“ Oh, Mr. Moss ! Heaven forbid that any man should 
be shot for me. No, not all the pheasants in the world. 
I’ll try and think of some other way. I should like 
to see the place. May J ? ” 

“ Yes, my lady, and welcome.” 

“ How shall I get to it, sir ? ” 

“You can ride to the ( Woodman’s Rest,’ my lady, 
and it is scarce a stone’s-throw from there; but ’tis 
baddish travelling for the likes of you.” 

She appointed an hour, rode, with her groom, to the 
public house, and thence was conducted through bush, 
through brier, to the place where her husband had been 
so annoyed. 

Moss’s comments became very intelligible to her the 
moment she saw the place. She said very little, how¬ 
ever, and rode home. 

Next day she blushed high, and asked Sir Charles for 
a hundred pounds to spend upon herself. 

Sir Charles smiled, well pleased, and gave it her, and a 
kiss into the bargain. 

“ Ah! but,” said she, “ that is not all.” 



3K H3H OT 3J8 -:.v ■ . t) ( > !A038 8T143MMQO 8'eeOM 






\ 






MOSS'S COMMENTS BECAME INTELLIGIBLE TO HER THE 
MOMENT SHE SAW THE PLACE. 




















A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


95 


“I am glad of it. You spend too little money on 
yourself, a great deal too little.” 

“ That is a complaint you won’t have long to make. 
I want to cut down a few trees. May I ? ” 

“ Going to build ? ” 

“ Don’t ask me. It is for myself.” 

“ That is enough. Cut down every stick on the estate, 
if you like. The barer it leaves us, the better.” 

“ Ah, Charles, you promised me not. I shall cut with 
great discretion, I assure you.” 

“ As you please,” said Sir Charles. “ If you want to 
make me happy, deny yourself nothing. Mind, I shall 
be angry if you do.” 

Soon after this a gaping quidnunc came to Sir Charles, 
and told him Lady Bassett was felling trees in North 
Wood. 

“ And pray who has a better right to fell trees in any 
wood of mine ? ” 

u But she is building a wall.” 

“ And who has a better right to build a wall ? ” With 
the delicacy of a gentleman he would not go near the 
place after this till she asked him ; and that was not long. 
She came into his study, all beaming, and invited him 
to a ride. She took him into North Wood, and showed 
him her work. Richard Bassett’s plantation, hitherto 
divided from North Wood only by a boundary scarcely 
visible, was now shut off by a brick wall. On Sir 
Charles’s side of that wall every stack of timber was 
felled and removed for a distance of fifty yards, and 
about twenty yards from the wall a belt of larches was 
planted, a little higher than cabbages. 

Sir Charles looked amazed at first, but soon observed 
how thoroughly his enemy was defeated. “ My poor 
Bella,” said he, “ to think of your taking all this trouble 
about such a thing”— He stopped to kiss her very 


96 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


tenderly, and she shone with joy and innocent pride. 
“ And I never thought of this! You astonish me, 
Bella.” 

“Ay,” said she, in high spirits now; “and, what is 
more, I have astonished Mr. Moss. He said, 1 1 wish I 
had your headpiece, my lady/ I could have told him 
love sharpens a woman’s wits; but I reserved that little 
adage for you.” 

“ It is all mighty fine, fair lady, but you have told me 
a fib. You said it was to be all for yourself, and got a 
hundred pounds out of me.” 

“And so it was for myself, you silly thing. Are you 
not myself? and the part of myself I love the best.” 
And her supple wrist was round his neck in a moment. 

They rode home together, like lovers, and comforted 
each other. 

Richard Bassett, with Wheeler’s assistance, had bor¬ 
rowed money on Highmore, to buy “ Splatchett’s: ” he 
now borrowed money on “ Splatchett’s,” and bought 
Dean’s Wood, a wood, with patches of grass, that lay on 
the east of Sir Charles’s boundary. He gave seventeen 
hundred pounds for it, and sold two thousand pounds 
worth of timber off it the first year. This sounds 
incredible; but, owing to the custom of felling only ripe 
trees, landed proprietors had no sure clew to the value of 
all the timber on an acre. Richard Bassett had found 
this out, and bought Dean’s Wood upon the above terms; 
i.e.j the vendor gave him the soil, and three hundred 
pounds, gratis. He grubbed the roots, and sold them for 
fuel, and planted larches to catch the overflow of Sir 
Charles’s game; the grass grew beautifully, now the 
trees were down, and he let it for pasture. 

He then, still under Wheeler’s advice, came out into 
the world again, improved his dress, and called on several 
county families, with a view to marrying money. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


97 


Now, in the country they do not despise a poor gentle¬ 
man of good lineage, and Bassett was one of the oldest 
names in the county; so every door was open to him; 
and, indeed, his late hermit life had stimulated some 
curiosity. This he soon turned to sympathy, by telling 
them that he was proud, but poor; robbed of the vast 
estates that belonged to him by birth, he had been un¬ 
willing to take a lower position. However, Heaven had 
prospered him ; the wrongful heir was childless ; he was 
the heir-at-law, and he felt he owed it to the estate, which 
must return to his line, to assume a little more public 
importance than he had done. 

Wherever he was received he was sure to enlarge upon 
his wrongs; and he was believed; for he was notoriously 
the direct heir to Bassett and Huntercombe, but the 
family arrangement, by which his father had been bought 
out, was known only to a few. He readily obtained 
sympathy, and many persons were disgusted at Sir 
Charles’s illiberality in not making him some compensa¬ 
tion. To use the homely expression of Govett, a small 
proprietor, the baronet might as well have given him 
back one pig out of his own farrow: i.e., one of the many 
farms comprised in that large estate. 

Sir Charles learned that Richard was undermining 
him in the county, but was too proud to interfere; he 
told Lady Bassett he should say nothing until some 
gentleman should indorse Mr. Bassett’s falsehoods. 

One day, Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were invited to 
dine and sleep at Mr. Hardwicke’s, distant fifteen miles; 
they went, and found Richard Bassett dining there, by 
Mrs. Hardwicke’s invitation, who was one of those nin¬ 
nies that fling guests together with no discrimination. 

Richard had expected this to happen sooner or later, 
so he was comparatively prepared, and bowed stiffly to 
Sir Charles. Sir Charles stared at him in return. This 
7 


98 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


was observed: people were uncomfortable, especially 
Mrs. Hardwicke, whose thoughtlessness was to blame 
for it all. 

At a very early hour Sir Charles ordered his carriage, 
and drove home, instead of staying all night. 

Mrs. Hardwicke, being a fool, must make a little more 
mischief. She blubbered to her husband, and he wrote 
Sir Charles a remonstrance. 

Sir Charles replied that he was the only person 
aggrieved: Mr. Hardwicke ought not to have invited a 
blackguard to meet him. 

Mr. Hardwicke replied that he had never heard a 
Bassett called a blackguard before, and had seen nothing 
in Mr. Bassett to justify an epithet so unusual amongst 
gentlemen. “ And, to be frank with you, Sir Charles,” 
said he, “ I think this bitterness against a poor gentle¬ 
man, whose estates you are so fortunate as to possess, is 
not consistent with your general character, and is, indeed, 
unworthy of you.” 

To this, Sir Charles Bassett replied: — 

Dear Mr. Hardwicke, — You have applied some remarks 
to me, which I will endeavor to forget, as they were written 
in entire ignorance of the truth. But, if we are to remain 
friends, I expect you to believe me, when I tell you that Mr. 
Richard Bassett has never been wronged by me or mine, but 
has wronged me and Lady Bassett deeply. He is a dishonora¬ 
ble scoundrel, not entitled to be received in society: and if, 
after this assurance, you receive him, I shall never darken 
your doors again. So please let me know your decision. 

I remain, 

Yours truly, 

Charles Dyke Bassett. 

Mr. Hardwicke chafed under this, but prudence stepped 
in: he was one of the county members, and Sir Charles 
could command three hundred votes. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


99 


He wrote back to say he had received Sir Charles’s 
letter with pain, but of course he could not disbelieve 
him, and therefore he should invite Mr. Bassett no more 
till the matter was cleared. 

But Mr. Hardwicke, thus brought to book, was nettled 
at his own meanness, so he sent Sir Charles’s letter to 
Mr. Richard Bassett. 

Bassett foamed with rage, and wrote a long letter, 
raving with insults, to Sir Charles. 

He was in the act of directing it, when Wheeler called 
on him. Bassett showed him Sir Charles’s letter. 
Wheeler read it. 

“ Now read what I say to him in reply.” 

Wheeler read Bassett’s letter, threw it into the fire, 
and kept it there with the poker. 

“ Lucky I called,” said he dryly. “ Saved you a thou¬ 
sand pounds or so. You must not write a letter without 
me.” 

“ What, am I to sit still and be insulted ? You’re a 
pretty friend.” 

“lama wise friend. This is a more serious matter 
than you seem to think.” 

“ Libel? ” 

“ Of course. Why, if Sir Charles had consulted me , I 
could not have dictated a better letter. It closes every 
chink a defendant in libel can creep out by. Now take 
your pen and write to Mr. Hardwicke.” 

Dear Sir, — I have received your letter, containing a libel 
written by Sir Charles Bassett. My reply will be public. 

Yours very truly, 

Richard Bassett. 

“Is that all?” 

“Every syllable. Now mind: you never go to Hard¬ 
wicke House again; Sir Charles has got you banished 


100 


A TERKIBLfi TEMPTATION. 


from that house; special damage! There never was a 
prettier case for a jury ; the rightful heir foully slandered 
by the possessor of his hereditary estates.” 

This picture excited Bassett, and he walked about 
raving with malice, and longing for the time when he 
should stand in the witness-box and denounce his enemy. 

“No, no,” said Wheeler, “leave that to counsel; you 
must play the mild victim in the witness-box. Who is 
the defendant’s solicitor? We ought to serve the writ 
on him at once.” 

“ No, no; serve it on himself.” 

“ What for ? Much better proceed like gentlemen.” 

Bassett got in a passion, at being contradicted in 
everything. “I tell you,” said he, “the more I can 
irritate and exasperate this villain, the better. Besides, 
he slandered me behind my back; and I’ll have the writ 
served upon himself. I’ll do everything I can to take 
him down. If a man wants to be my lawyer he must 
enter into my feelings a little.” 

Wheeler, to whom he was more valuable than ever 
now, consented somewhat reluctantly; and called at 
Huntercombe Hall next day, with the writ, and sent in 
his card. 

Lady Bassett heard of this, and asked if it was Mr. 
Bassett’s friend. 

The butler said he thought it was. 

Lady Bassett went to Sir Charles in his study. “ Oh, 
my dear,” said she, “here is Mr. Bassett’s lawyer.” 

“ Well?” 

“ Why does he come here ? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ Don’t see him.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ I am so afraid of Mr. Bassett. He is our evil genius. 
Let me see this person, instead of you. May I ? ” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


101 


“ Certainly not.” 

“ Might I see him first , love ? ” 

“ You will not see him at all.” 

“ Charles! ” 

“No, Bella; I cannot have these animals talking to 
my wife.” 

“ But, dear love, I am so full of forebodings. You 
know, Charles, I don’t often presume to meddle : but I 
am in torture about this man. If you receive him, may 
I be with you ? Then we shall be two to one.” 

“ No, no,” said Sir Charles, testily; then, seeing her 
beautiful eyes fill at the refusal and the unusual tone, 
he relented. “You may be in hearing if you like. 
Open that door, and sit in the little room.” 

“ Oh, thank you! ” 

She stepped into the room, a very small sitting-room. 
She had never been in it before, and, while she was ex¬ 
amining it and thinking how she could improve its ap¬ 
pearance, Mr. Wheeler was shown into the study. Sir 
Charles received him standing, to intimate that the inter¬ 
view must be brief. This, and the time he had been kept 
waiting in the hall, roused Wheeler’s bile, and he entered 
on his subject more brusquely than he had intended. 

“ Sir Charles Bassett, you wrote a letter to Mr. Hard- 
wicke, reflecting on my client, Mr. Bassett — a most un¬ 
justifiable letter.” 

“ Keep your opinion to yourself, sir. I wrote a letter 
calling him what he is.” 

“ No, sir; that letter is a libel.” 

“ It is the truth.” 

“ It is a malicious libel, sir; and we shall punish you 
for it. I hereby serve you with this copy of a writ. 
Damages, five thousand pounds.” 

A sigh from the next room passed unnoticed by the 
men, for their voices were now raised in anger. 


102 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ And so that is what you came here for. Why did 
you not go to my solicitor ? You must be as great a 
blackguard as your client, to serve your paltry writs on 
me in my own house.” 

“ Not blackguard enough to insult a gentleman in my 
own house. If you had been civil, I might have accom¬ 
modated matters; but now I’ll make you smart —ugh! ” 

Nothing provokes a high-spirited man more than a 
menace. Sir Charles, threatened in his wife’s hearing, 
shot out his right arm with surprising force and rapidity, 
and knocked Wheeler down in a moment. In came 
Lady Bassett, with a scream, and saw the attorney lying 
doubled up, and Sir Charles standing over him, blowing 
like a grampus, with rage and excitement. 

But the next moment he staggered and gasped, and 
she had to support him to a seat. She rang the bell for 
aid, then kneeled, and took his throbbing temples to her 
wifely bosom. 

Wheeler picked himself up, and, seated on his hams, 
eyed the pair with concentrated fury. 

“ Aha! You have hurt yourself more than me. Two 
suits against you now, instead of one.” 

“ Conduct this person from the house,” said Lady Bas¬ 
sett to a servant who entered at that moment. 

“ All right, my lady,” said Wheeler; “ I’ll remind you 
of that word when this house belongs to us.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


103 


CHAPTEB X. 

With this bitter reply, Wheeler retired precipitately; 
the shaft pierced but one bosom; for the devoted wife, 
with the swift ingenuity of woman’s love, had put both 
her hands right over her husband’s ears, that he might 
hear no more insults. 

Sir Charles very nearly had a fit; but his wife 
loosened his neckcloth, caressed his throbbing head, and 
applied eau-de-cologne to his nostrils ; he got better, but 
felt dizzy for about an hour. She made him come into 
her room and lie down; she hung over him, curling as a 
vine and light as a bird, and her kisses lit softly as down 
upon his eyes, and her words of love and pity murmured 
music in his ears, till he slept, and that danger passed. 

For a day or two after this, both Sir Charles and Lady 
Bassett avoided the unpleasant subject. But it had to be 
faced; so Mr. Oldfield was summoned to Huntercombe, 
and all engagements given up for the day, that he might 
dine alone with them and talk the matter over. 

Sir Charles thought he could justify; but, when it 
came to the point, he could only prove that Bichard had 
done several ungentlemanlike things, of a nature a stout 
jury would consider trifles. 

Mr. Oldfield said of course they must enter an appear¬ 
ance; and, this done, the wisest course would be to let 
him see Wheeler, and try to compromise the suit. “ It 
will cost you a thousand pounds, Sir Charles, I dare say; 
but if it teaches you never to write of an enemy, or to 
an enemy, without showing your lawyer the letter first, 
the lesson will be cheap. Somebody in the Bible says, 


104 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


‘Oli that mine enemy would write a book! ’ I say, 
‘Oh that he would write a letter—without consulting 
his solicitor ! ’ ” 

It was Lady Bassett’s cue now to make light of trou¬ 
bles. “What does it matter, Mr. Oldfield? All they 
want is money. Yes, offer them a thousand pounds to 
leave him in peace.” 

So next day Mr. Oldfield called on Wheeler, all smiles 
and civility, and asked him if he did not think it a pity 
cousins should quarrel before the whole county. 

“ A great pity,” said Wheeler; “ but my client has no 
alternative. No gentleman in the county would speak 
to him if he sat quiet under such contumely.” 

After beating about the bush the usual time, Oldfield 
said that Sir Charles was hungry for litigation, but that 
Lady Bassett was averse to it. “ In short, Mr. Wheeler, 
I will try and get Mr. Bassett a thousand pounds to 
forego this scandal.” 

“ I will consult him, and let you know,” said Wheeler. 
“ He happens to be in the town.” 

Oldfield called again in an hour. Wheeler told him 
a thousand pounds would be accepted with a written 
apology. 

Oldfield shook his head. “ Sir Charles will never 
write an apology; right or wrong, he is too sincere in 
his conviction.” 

“ He will never get a jury to share it.” 

“ You must not be too sure of that. You don’t know 
the defence.” 

Oldfield said this with a gravity which did him credit. 

“ Ho you know it yourself ? ” said the other keen 
hand. 

Mr. Oldfield smiled haughtily, but said nothing. 
Wheeler had hit the mark. 

“ By-the-by,” said the latter, “ there is another little 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


105 


matter. Sir Charles assaulted me for doing my duty to 
my client. I mean to sue him. Here is the writ; will 
you accept service ? ” 

“ Oh, certainly, Mr. Wheeler, and I am glad to find 
you do not make a habit of serving writs on gentlemen 
in person.” 

“ Of course not. I did it on a single occasion, con¬ 
trary to my own wish; and went in person — to soften 
the blow — instead of sending my clerk.” 

After this little spar, the two artists in law bade each 
other farewell with every demonstration of civility. 

Sir Charles would not apologize. 

The plaintiff filed his declaration. 

The defendant pleaded not guilty, but did not disclose 
his defence. The law allows a defendant in libel this 
advantage. 

Plaintiff joined issue, and the trial was set down for 
the next assizes. 

Sir Charles was irritated, but nothing more. Lady 
Bassett, with a woman’s natural shrinking from pub¬ 
licity, felt it more deeply. She would have given thou¬ 
sands of her own money to keep the matter out of court. 
But her very terror of Bichard Bassett restrained her. 
She was always thinking about him, and had convinced 
herself he was the ablest villain in the wide world; and 
she thought to herself, “If, with his small means, he 
annoys Charles so, what would he do if I were to enrich 
him ? He would crush us.” 

As the trial drew near, she began to hover about Sir 
Charles in his study, like an anxious hen. The maternal 
yearnings were awakened in her by marriage, and she 
had no child; so her Charles in trouble was husband and 
child. 

Sometimes she would come in and just kiss his fore¬ 
head, and run out again, casting back a celestial look of 


106 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


love at the door, and, though it was her husband she had 
kissed, she blushed divinely. At last one day she crept 
in and said, very timidly, “ Charles, dear, the anonymous 
letter, is not that an excuse for libelling him — as they 
call telling the truth ? ” 

“ Why, of course it is. Have you got it ? ” 

“ Dearest, the brave lady took it away.” 

“ The brave lady ! Who is that ? ” 

“Why, the lady that came with Mr. Oldfield, and 
pleaded your cause with papa; oh, so eloquently! 
Sometimes, when I think of it now, I feel almost 
jealous. Who is she ? ” 

“ From what you have always told me, I think it was 
the Sister of Charity who nursed me.” 

“ You silly thing, she was no Sister of Charity; that 
was only put on. Charles, tell me the truth. What 
does it matter now ? It was some lady who loved you.” 

“ Loved me, and set her wits to work to marry me to 
you ? ” 

“ Women’s love is so disinterested — sometimes.” 

“No, no; she told me she was a sister of — and no 
doubt that is the truth.” 

“ A sister of whom ? ” 

“No matter; don’t remind me of the past, it is odious 
to me; and, on second thoughts, rather than stir up all 
that mud, it would be better not to use the anonymous 
letter, even if you could get it again.” 

Lady Bassett begged him to take advice on that; 
meantime she would try to get the letter, and also the 
evidence that Bichard Bassett wrote it. 

“ I see no harm in that,” said Sir Charles; “ only con¬ 
fine your communication to Mr. Oldfield. I will not 
have you speaking or writing to a woman I don’t know ; 
and the more I think of her conduct the less I under¬ 
stand it.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


107 


“ There are people who do good by stealth,” suggested 
Bella timidly. 

“ Fiddle-de-dee ! ” replied Sir Charles ; “ you are a 
goose — I mean an angel.” 

Lady Bassett complied with the letter, but, goose or 
not, evaded the spirit of Sir Charles’s command with 
considerable dexterity. 

Dear Mr. Oldfield, —You may guess what trouble I 
am in. Sir Charles will soon have to appear in open court, 
and be talked against by some great orator. That anonymous 
letter Mr. Bassett wrote me was very base, and is surely some 
justification of the violent epithets my dear husband, in an 
unhappy moment of irritation, has applied to him. The brave 
lady has it. I am sure she will not refuse to send it me. I 
wish I dare ask her to give it me with her own hand; but 
I must not, I suppose. Pray tell her how unhappy I am, and 
perhaps she will favor us with a word of advice as well as the 
letter. I remain 

Yours faithfully, 

Bella Bassett. 

This letter was written at the brave lady, and Mr. 
Oldfield did what was expected: he sent Miss Somerset 
a copy of Lady Bassett’s letter, and some lines in his 
own hand, describing Sir Charles’s difficulty in a more 
business-like way. 

In due course Miss Somerset wrote him back that she 
was in the country, hunting, at no very great distance 
from Huntercombe Hall; she would send up to town for 
her desk; the letter would be there, if she had kept it 
at all. 

Oldfield groaned at this cool conjecture, and wrote 
back directly, urging expedition. 

This produced an effect that he had not antici¬ 
pated. 

One morning Lord Harrowdale’s foxhounds met at a 


108 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


large covert, about five miles from Huntercombe, and Sir 
Charles told Lady Bassett she must ride to cover. 

“Yes, dear. Charles, love, I have no spirit to appear 
in public. We shall soon have publicity enough.” 

“ That is my reason. I have not done, nor said, any¬ 
thing I am ashamed of, and you will meet the county on 
this and on every public occasion.” 

“ I obey,” said Bella. 

“ And look your best.” 

“ I will, dearest.” 

“ And be in good spirits.” 

“ Must I ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ I will try. Oh! — oh! — oh! ” 

“ Why, you poor-spirited little goose ! Dry your eyes 
this moment.” 

“There! Oh!” 

“ And kiss me.” 

“ There ! Ah, kissing you is a great comfort.” 

“It is one you are particularly welcome to. Now, run 
away, and put on your habit. I’ll have two grooms out: 
one with a fresh horse for me, and one to look after you.” 

“ 0 Charles ! pray don’t make me hunt.” 

“ No, no ! not so tyrannical as that. Hang it all! ” 

“ Do you know what I do whilst you are hunting ? I 
pray all the time that you may not get a fall, and be 
hurt; and I pray God to forgive you and all the gentle¬ 
men for your cruelty in galloping with all those dogs 
after one poor, little, inoffensive thing, to hunt it, and 
kill it — kill it twice, indeed, once with terror, and then 
over again with mangling its poor little body.” 

“This is cheerful,” said Sir Charles rather ruefully. 
“We cannot all be angels, like you. It is a glorious 
excitement. There, you are too good for this world. 
I’ll let you off going.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


109 


“ Oh, no, dear! I won’t be let off, now I know your 
wish. Only I beg to ride home as soon as the poor thing 
runs away. You wouldn’t get me out of the thick covers, 
if I were a fox. I’d run round and round, and call on 
all my acquaintances to set them running.” 

As she said this, her eyes turned towards each other 
in a peculiar way, and she looked extremely foxy; but 
the look melted away directly. 

The hounds met, and Lady Bassett, who was still the 
beauty of the county, was surrounded by riders, at first; 
but, as the hounds began to work, and every now and 
then a young hound uttered a note, they cantered about, 
and took up different posts, as experience suggested. 

At last a fox was found at the other end of the cover, 
and away galloped the hunters in that direction, all but 
four persons, — Lady Bassett and her groom, who kept 
respectfully aloof, and a lady and gentleman who had 
reined their horses up on a rising ground about a 
furlong distant. 

Lady Bassett, thus left alone, happened to look round, 
and saw the lady level an opera-glass towards her, and 
look through it. 

As a result of this inspection, the lady cantered 
towards her. She was on a chestnut gelding of great 
height and bone, and rode him as if they were one, so 
smoothly did she move in concert with his easy, magnifi¬ 
cent strides. 

When she came near Lady Bassett, she made a little 
sweep, and drew up beside her on the grass. 

There was no mistaking that tall figure and command¬ 
ing face. It was the brave lady. Her eyes sparkled, 
her cheek was slightly colored with excitement. She 
looked healthier and handsomer than ever, and also more 
feminine, for a reason the sagacious reader may, perhaps, 
discern, if he attends to the dialogue. 


110 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ So ,” said she, without bowing, or any other ceremony, 
“that little rascal is troubling you again.” 

Lady Bassett colored, and panted, and looked lovingly 
at her before she could speak. At last she said, “ Yes; 
and you have come to help us again ? ” 

“ Well, the lawyer said there was no time to lose; so 
I have brought you the anonymous letter.” 

“ Oh, thank you, madam ! thank you! ” 

“ But I’m afraid it will be of no use, unless you can 
prove Mr. Bassett wrote it. It is in a disguised 
hand.” 

“But you found him out by means of another letter.” 

“Yes; but I can’t give you that other letter, to have 
it read in a court of law, because — do you see that 
gentleman there ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ That is Marsh.” 

“ Oh, is it ? ” 

“ He is a fool; but I’m going to marry him. I have 
been very ill since I saw you, and poor Marsh nursed 
me. Talk of women nurses! If ever you are ill in 
earnest, as I was, write to me, and I’ll send you Marsh. 
Oh, I have no words to tell you his patience, his forbear¬ 
ance, his watchfulness, his tenderness to a sick woman. 
It is no use, I must marry him; and I could have no 
letter published that would give him pain.” 

“Of course, not. Oh, madam, do you think I am 
capable of doing anything that would give you pain, or 
dear Mr. Marsh either ? ” 

“No, no ; you are a good woman.” 

“Not half so good as you are.” 

“ You don’t know what you are saying.” 

“ Oh, yes, I do ! ” 

“ Then, I say no more; it is rude to contradict. Good- 
by, Lady Bassett.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Ill 


“ Must you leave me so soon ? Will you not visit us ? 
May I not know the name of so good a friend ? ” 

“Next week I shall be Mrs. Marsh” 

“ And you will give me the great pleasure of having 
you at my house, you and your husband ? ” 

The lady showed some agitation at this — an unusual 
thing for her. She faltered, “ Some day, perhaps, if I 
make him as good a wife as I hope to. What a lady you 
are! Vulgar people are ashamed to be grateful; but 
you are a born lady. Good-by, before I make a fool of 
myself; and they are all coming this way, by the dogs’ 
music.” 

“ Won’t you kiss me, after bringing me this ? ” 

“Kiss you ? ” and she opened her eyes. 

“If you please,” said Lady Bassett, bending towards 
her with eyes full of gratitude and tenderness. 

Then the other woman took her by the shoulders, and 
plunged her great gray orbs into Bella’s. 

They kissed each other. 

At that contact the stranger seemed to change her 
character all in a moment. She strained Bella to her 
bosom, and kissed her passionately, and sobbed out 
wildly, “ 0 God! you are good to sinners ! This is the 
happiest hour of my life — it is a forerunner. Bless 
you, sweet dove of innocence! You will be none the 
worse, and I am all the better. — Ah, Sir Charles ! Not 
one word about me to him.” 

And with these words, uttered with sudden energy, 
she spurred her great horse, leaped the ditch, and burst 
through the dead hedge into the wood, and winded out 
of sight amongst the trees. 

Sir Charles came up astonished. “Why, who was 
that ? ” 

Bella’s eyes began to rove, as I have before described; 
but she replied pretty promptly, “The brave lady her- 


112 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


self; she brought me the anonymous letter for your 
defence.” 

“ Why, how came she to know about it ? ” 

“ She did not tell me that. She was in a great hurry. 
Her fiance was waiting for her.” 

“ Was it necessary to kiss her in the hunting-field ? ” 
said Sir Charles, with something very like a frown. 

“ Fd kiss the whole field, grooms and all, if they did 
you a great service, as that dear lady has,” said Bella. 
The words were brave, but the accent piteous. 

“You are excited, Bella. You had better ride home,” 
said Sir Charles, gently enough, but moodily. 

“Thank you, Charles,” said Bella, glad to escape 
further examination about this mysterious lady. She 
rode home accordingly. There she found Mr. Oldfield, 
and showed him the anonymous letter. 

He read it, and said it was a defence, but a disagree¬ 
able one. “ Suppose he says he wrote it, and the facts 
were true ? ” 

“But I don’t think he will confess it. He is not a 
gentleman. He is very untruthful. Can we not make 
this a trap to catch him, sir ? He has no scruples.” 

Oldfield looked at her, in some surprise at her depth. 

“We must get hold of his handwriting,” said he. 
“We must ransack the local banks; find his corre¬ 
spondents.” 

“Leave all that to me,” said Lady Bassett, in a low 
voice. 

Mr. Oldfield thought he might as well please a beauti¬ 
ful and loving woman if he could; so he gave her some¬ 
thing to do for her husband. “Very well, collect all the 
materials of comparison you can, letters, receipts, etc. 
Meantime I will retain the two principal experts in 
London, and we will submit your materials to them the 
night before the trial.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


113 


Lady Bassett, thus instructed, drove to all the banks, 
but found no clerk acquainted with Mr. Bassett’s hand¬ 
writing. He did not bank with anybody in the county. 

She called on several persons she thought likely to 
possess letters or other writings of Richard Bassett. 
Not a scrap. 

Then she began to fear. The case looked desperate. 

Then she began to think. And she thought very hard 
indeed, especially at night. 

In the dead of night she had an idea. She got up, 
and stole from her husband’s side, and studied the 
anonymous letter. 

Next day she sat down with the anonymous letter on 
her desk, and blushed, and trembled, and looked about 
like some wild animal scared. She selected from the 
anonymous letter several words, “ character, abused, Sir, 
Charles, Bassett, lady, abandon, friend, whether, ten, 
slanderer,” etc., and wrote them on a slip of paper. 
Then she locked up the anonymous letter. Then she 
locked the door. Then she sat down to a sheet of paper, 
and after some more wild and furtive glances all round, 
she gave her whole mind to writing a letter. 

And to whom did she write, think you ? 

To Richard Bassett. 


8 


114 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER XI. 

Mr. Bassett, — lam sure both yourself and my husband 
will suffer in public estimation, unless some friend comes 
between you, and this unhappy lawsuit is given up. 

Do not think me blind, nor presumptuous. Sir Charles, 
when he wrote that letter, had reason to believe you had done 
him a deep injury by unfair means. Many will share that 
opinion, if this cause is tried. You are his cousin, and his 
heir-at-law. I dread to see an unhappy feud inflamed by a 
public trial. Is there no personal sacrifice by which I can 
compensate the affront you have received, without compro¬ 
mising Sir Charles Bassett’s veracity, who is the soul of 
honor ? I am, 

Yours obediently, 

Bella Bassett. 

She posted this letter, and Richard Bassett had no 
sooner received it than he mounted his horse, and rode 
to Wheeler’s with it. 

That worthy’s eyes sparkled. “ Capital! ” said he. 
“We must draw her on, and write an answer that will 
read well in court.” 

He concocted an epistle just the opposite to what 
Richard Bassett, left to himself, would have written. 
Bassett copied and sent it as his own. 

Lady Bassett, — I thank you for writing to me at this 
moment, when I am weighed down by slander. Your own 
character stands so high, that you would not deign to write to 
me if you believed the abuse that has been lavished on me. 
With you I deplore this family feud. It is not of my seeking; 
and as for this lawsuit, it is one in which the plaintiff is really 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


115 


the defendant. Sir Charles has written a defamatory letter, 
which has closed every house in this county to his victim. If, 
as I now feel sure, you disapprove the libel, pray persuade 
him to retract it. The rest our lawyers can settle. 

Yours very respectfully, 

Richard Bassett. 

When Lady Bassett read this, she saw she had an 
adroit opponent. Yet she wrote again: 

Mr. Bassett, — There are limits to my influence with Sir 
Charles. I have no power to make him say one word against 
his convictions. 

But my lawyer tells me you seek pecuniary compensation 
for an affront. I offer you, out of my own means, which are 
ample, that which you seek — offer it freely and heartily; and 
I honestly think you had better receive it from me, than expose 
yourself to the risks and mortifications of a public trial. I am 
Yours obediently, 

Bella Bassett. 

Lady Bassett, — You have fallen into a very natural 
error. It is true I sue Sir Charles Bassett for money; but that 
is only because the law allows me my remedy in no other form. 
What really brings me into court is the defence of my injured 
honor. How do you meet me? You say, virtually, “Never 
mind your character: here is money.” Permit me to decline 
it on such terms. 

A public insult cannot be cured in private. 

Strong in my innocence and my wrongs, I court what you 
call the risks of a public trial. 

Whatever the result, you have played the honorable and 
womanly part of peacemaker; and it is unfortunate for your 
husband that your gentle influence is limited by his vanity, 
which perseveres in a cruel slander, instead of retracting it, 
while there is yet time. I am, madam, 

Yours obediently, 

Richard Bassett. 


116 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Mr. Bassett, — I retire from a correspondence which 
appears to be useless, and might, if prolonged, draw some 
bitter remark from me as it has from you. 

After the trial, which you court, and I deprecate, you will 
perhaps review my letters with a more friendly eye. I am 
Yours obediently, 

Bella Bassett. 

In this fencing-match, between a lawyer and a lady, 
each gained an advantage. The lawyer’s letters, as 
might have been expected, were the best adapted to be 
read to a jury; but the lady, subtler in her way, obtained 
at a small sacrifice what she wanted, and that without 
raising the slightest suspicion of her true motive in the 
correspondence. 

She announced her success to Mr. Oldfield; but, in 
the midst of it, she quaked with terror at the thought of 
what Sir Charles would say to her for writing to Mr. 
Bassett at all. 

She now, with the changeableness of her sex, hoped and 
prayed Mr. Bassett would admit the anonymous letter, 
and so all her subtlety and pains prove superfluous. 

Quaking secretly, but with a lovely face and serene 
front, she took her place at the assizes, before the judge, 
and got as near him as she could. 

The court was crowded, and many ladies present. 

Bassett v. Bassett was called in a loud voice; there 
was a hum of excitement, then a silence of expectation, 
and the plaintiff’s counsel rose to address the jury. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


117 


CHAPTER XII. 

“ May it please your Lordship: Gentlemen of the 
Jury. The plaintiff in this case is Richard Bassett, 
Esq., the direct and lineal representative of that old and 
honorable family, whose monuments are to be seen in 
several churches in this county, and whose estates are 
the largest, I believe, in the county. He would have 
succeeded, as a matter of course, to those estates, but 
for an arrangement made only a year before he was 
born; by which, contrary to nature and justice, he was 
denuded of those estates, and they passed to the defend¬ 
ant. The defendant is nowise to blame for that piece of 
injustice; but he profits by it, and it might be expected 
that his good fortune would soften his heart towards his 
unfortunate relative. I say that, if uncommon tender¬ 
ness might be expected to be shown by anybody to this 
deserving and unfortunate gentleman, it would be by Sir 
Charles Bassett, who enjoys his cousin’s ancestral estates, 
and can so well appreciate what that cousin has lost by 
no fault of his own.” 

“ Hear ! hear! ” 

“ Silence in the Court! ” 

The Judge . “ I must request that there may be no 

manifestation of feeling.” 

Counsel. “ I will endeavor to provoke none, my lord. 
It is a very simple case, and I shall not occupy you long. 
Well, gentlemen, Mr. Bassett is a poor man, by no fault 
of his ; but if he is poor, he is proud and honorable. He 
has met the frowns of fortune like a gentleman — like 
a man. He has not solicited Government for a place. 


118 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


He has not whined, nor lamented. He has dignified 
unmerited poverty by prudence and self-denial; and, 
unable to forget that he is a Bassett, he has put by a 
little money every year, and bought a small estate or 
two, and had even applied to the Lord Lieutenant to 
make him a justice of the peace, when a most severe and 
unexpected blow fell upon him. Amongst those large 
proprietors who respected him in spite of his humbler 
circumstances, was Mr. Hardwicke, one of the county 
members; well, gentlemen, on the 21st of last May, Mr. 
Bassett received a letter from Mr. Hardwicke, enclosing 
one purporting to be from Sir Charles Bassett ” — 

The Judge . “Does Sir Charles Bassett admit the 
letter ? ” 

Defendant's Counsel (after a word with Oldfield). “ Yes, 
my lord.” 

Plaintiff's Counsel. “ A letter admitted to be written 
by Sir Charles Bassett. That letter shall be read to you.” 

The letter was then read. 

The counsel resumed, “ Conceive, if you can, the effect 
of this blow, just as my unhappy and most deserving 
client was rising a little in the world. I shall prove 
that it excluded him from Mr. Hardwicke’s house and 
other houses, too. He is a man of too much importance 
to risk affronts: he has never entered the door of any 
gentleman in this county since his powerful relative 
published this cruel libel. He has drawn his Spartan 
cloak around him; and he awaits your verdict to resume 
that place amongst you which is due to him in every 
way— due to him as the heir in direct line to the wealth, 
and, above all, to the honor, of the Bassetts; due to him 
as Sir Charles Bassett’s heir-at-law; and due to him on 
account of the decency and fortitude with which he has 
borne adversity, and with which he now repels foul- 
mouthed slander.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


119 


“ Hear! hear! ” 

“ Silence in the Court! ” 

"I have done, gentlemen, for the present. Indeed, 
eloquence, even if I possessed it, would be superfluous; 
the facts speak for themselves. Call James Hardwicke, 
Esq.” 

Mr. Hardwicke proved the receipt of the letter from 
Sir Charles, and that he had sent it to Mr. Bassett: and 
that Mr. Bassett had not entered his house since then, 
nor had he invited him. 

Mr. Bassett was then called, and, being duly trained 
by Wheeler, abstained from all heat, and wore an air of 
dignified dejection. His counsel examined him, and 
his replies bore out the opening statement. Everybody 
thought him sure of a verdict. 

He was then cross-examined. Defendant’s counsel 
pressed him about his unfair way of shooting. The 
judge interfered, and said that was trifling — if there 
was no substantial defence, why not settle the matter ? 

“ There is a defence, my lord.” 

“ Then it is time you disclosed it.” 

“Very well, my lord. Mr. Bassett — did you ever 
write an anonymous letter ? ” 

“Not that I remember.” 

“Oh, that appears to you a trifle. It is not so con¬ 
sidered.” 

The Judge . “Be more particular in your question.” 

“ I will, my lord. Did you ever write an anonymous 
letter, to make mischief between Sir Charles and Lady 
Bassett ? ” 

“Never,” said the witness; but he turned pale. 

“ Do you mean to say you did not write this letter to 
Miss Bruce ? Look at the letter, Mr. Bassett, before 
you reply.” 

Bassett cast one swift glance of agony at Wheeler; 


120 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


then braced himself like iron. He examined the letter 
attentively, turned it over, lived an age, and said it was 
not his writing. 

“ Do you swear that ? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

Defendant's Counsel. “I shall ask your lordship to 
take down that reply. If persisted in, my client will 
indict the witness for perjury.” 

Plaintiff's Counsel. “ Don’t threaten the witness, as 
well as insult him, please.” 

The Judge. “ He is an educated man, and knows the 
duty he owes to God and the defendant. Take time, 
Mr. Bassett, and recollect.. Did you write that letter ? ” 

“No, my lord.” 

Counsel waited for the judge to note the reply, then 
proceeded. 

“You have lately corresponded with Lady Bassett, I 
think ? ” 

“ Yes. Her ladyship opened a correspondence with me.” 

“ It’s a lie! ” roared Sir Charles Bassett, from the 
door of the grand jury room. 

“ Silence in the Court! ” 

The Judge. Who made that unseemly remark ? ” 

Sir Charles. “ I did, my lord. My wife never corre¬ 
sponded with the cur.” 

The Plaintiff. “It is only one insult more, gentle¬ 
men, and as false as the rest. Permit me, my lord. My 
own counsel would never have put the question. I 
would not, for the world, give Lady Bassett pain; but 
Sir Charles and his counsel have extorted the truth 
from me. Her ladyship did open a correspondence 
with me, and a friendly one.” 

The Plaintiff's Counsel. “Will your lordship ask 
whether that was after the defendant had written the 
libel?” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


121 


The question was put, and answered in the affirmative. 

Lady Bassett hid her face in her hands. Sir Charles 
saw the movement, and groaned aloud. 

The Judge . “ I beg the case may not be encumbered 

with irrelevant matter.” 

Counsel replied that the correspondence would be 
'made evidence in the case. ( To the witness) “You 
wrote this letter to Lady Bassett ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And every word in it ? ” 

“ And every word in it,” faltered Bassett, now ashy 
pale, for he began to see the trap. 

“ Then you wrote this word ‘ character/ and this word 
i injured/ and this word ” — 

The Judge (peevishly). “He tells you he wrote 
every word in those letters to Lady Bassett. What 
more would you have ? ” 

Counsel. “ If your lordship will be good enough to 
examine the Correspondence, and compare those words 
in it I have underlined with the same words in the 
anonymous letter, you will perhaps find I know my 
business better than you seem to think.” (The counsel 
who ventured on this remonstrance was a serjeant.) 

“ Brother Wordsworth,” said the judge, with a charm¬ 
ing manner, “you satisfied me of that, to my cost, long 
ago, whenever I had you against me in a case. Please 
hand me the letters.” 

While the judge was making a keen comparison, coun¬ 
sel continued the cross-examination. 

“You are aware that this letter caused a separation 
between Sir Charles Bassett and the lady he was engaged 
to ? ” 

“ I know nothing about it.” 

“Indeed? Well, were you acquainted with the Miss 
Somerset mentioned in this matter ? ” 


122 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Slightly.” 

“ You have been at her house ? ” 

“ Once or twice.” 

“Which? Twice is double as often as once, you 
know.” 

“ Twice.” 

“No more ?” 

“ Not that I recollect.” 

“ You wrote to her ? ” 

“ I may have.” 

“ Did you, or did you not ? ” 

“I did.” 

“ What was the purport of that letter ? ” 

“ I can’t recollect at this distance of time.” 

“On your oath, sir, did you not write, urging her to 
co-operate with you to keep Sir Charles Bassett from 
marrying his affianced, Miss Bella Bruce, to whom 
that anonymous letter was written with the same 
object ? ” 

The perspiration now rolled in visible drops down the 
tortured liar’s face. Yet still, by a gigantic effort, he 
stood firm, and even planted a blow. 

“ I did not write the anonymous letter. But I believe 
I told Miss Somerset I loved Miss Bruce, and that her 
lover was robbing me of mine, as he had robbed me of 
everything else.” 

“ And that was all you said — on your oath ? ” 

“All I can recollect.” With this the strong man, 
cowed, terrified, expecting his letter to Somerset to be 
produced, and so the iron chain of evidence completed, 
gasped out, “Man, you tear open all my wounds at 
once ! ” and, with this, burst out sobbing, and lamenting 
aloud that he had ever been born. 

Counsel waited calmly till he should be in a condition 
to receive another dose. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


123 


“Oh, will nobody stop this cruel trial?” said Lady 
Bassett, with tears trickling down her face. 

The judge heard this remark, without seeming to do so. 

He said to defendant’s counsel, “ Whatever the truth 
may be, you have proved enough to show Sir Charles 
Bassett might well have an honest conviction that Mr. 
Bassett had done a dastardly act. Whether a jury would 
ever agree on a question of handwriting must always be 
doubtful. Looking at the relationship of the parties, is 
it advisable to carry this matter farther? If I might 
advise the gentlemen, they would each consent to with¬ 
draw a juror.” 

Upon this suggestion the counsel for both parties put 
their heads together in animated whispers; and, during 
this, the judge made a remark to the jury intended for 
the public: “ Since Lady Bassett’s name has been drawn 
into this, I must say that I have read her letters to Mr. 
Bassett, and they are such as she could write without in 
the least compromising her husband. Indeed, now the 
defence is shown, they appear to me to be wise and kindly 
letters, such as only a good wife, a high-bred lady, and 
a true Christian could write in so delicate a matter.” 

Plaintiff’s Counsel. “My lord, we are agreed to with¬ 
draw a juror.” 

Defendant’s Counsel. “Out of respect for your lord¬ 
ship’s advice, and not from any doubt of the result on 
our part.” 

The Crier. “ Wace v. Haliburton ! ” 

And so the car of justice rolled on, till it came to 
Wheeler v. Bassett. 

This case was soon disposed of. 

Sir Charles Bassett was dignified and calm in the 
witness-box, and treated the whole matter with high-bred 
nonchalance, as one unworthy of the attention the Court 
was good enough to bestow on it. The judge disap- 


124 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


proved the assault, but said the plaintiff had drawn it 
on himself by unprofessional conduct, and by threatening 
a gentleman in his own house. Verdict for the plaintiff 
—forty shillings. The judge refused to certify for costs. 

Lady Bassett, her throat parched with excitement, 
drove home, and awaited her husband’s return with no 
little anxiety. As soon as she heard him in his dressing- 
room she glided in, and went down on her knees to him. 
“ Pray, pray don’t scold me; I couldn’t bear you to be 
defeated, Charles.” 

Sir Charles raised her, but did not kiss her. “You 
think only of me,” said he, rather sadly. “ It is a sorry 
victory, too dearly bought.” 

Then she began to cry. 

Sir Charles begged her not to cry, but still he did not 
kiss her, nor conceal his mortification; he hardly spoke 
to her for several days. 

She accepted her disgrace pensively and patiently. 
She thought it all over, and felt her husband was right, 
and loved her like a man. But she thought, also, that 
she was not very wrong to love him in her way. Wrong 
or not, she felt she could not sit idle, and see his enemy 
defeat him. 

The coolness died away by degrees, with so much 
humility on one side, and so much love on both; but the 
subject was interdicted forever. 

A week after the trial, Lady Bassett wrote to Mrs. 
Marsh, under cover to Mr. Oldfield, and told her how 
the trial had gone, and, with many expressions of grati¬ 
tude, invited her and her husband to Huntercombe Hall. 
She told Sir Charles what she had done, and he wore a 
very strange look. “ Might I suggest that we have them 
alone ? ” said he dryly. 

“ By all means,” said Lady Bassett. “ I don’t want to 
share my paragon with anybody.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


125 


In due course a reply came. Mr. and Mrs. Marsh 
would avail themselves some day of Lady Bassett’s kind¬ 
ness; at present they were going abroad. The letter 
was written by a man’s hand. 

About this time Oldfield sent Sir Charles Miss Somer¬ 
set’s deed, cancelled, and told him she had married a man 
of fortune, who was devoted to her, and preferred to take 
her without any dowry. 

Bassett and Wheeler went home crestfallen, and dined 
together. They discussed the two trials; and each blamed 
the other. They quarrelled, and parted; and Wheeler 
sent in an enormous bill, extending over five years. 
Eighty-five items began thus — a Attending you at your 
house for several hours, on which occasion you asked my 
advice as to whether ” — etc. 

Now, as a great many of these attendances had been 
really to shoot game, and dine on rabbits, at Bassett’s 
expense, he thought it hard the conversations should be 
charged and the rabbits not. 

Disgusted with his defeat, and resolved to evade this 
bill, he discharged his servant, and put a retired soldier 
into his house, and armed him with a blunderbuss, and 
ordered him to keep all doors closed, and present the 
weapon aforesaid at all rate-collectors, tax-collectors, debt- 
collectors, and applicants for money to build churches, or 
convert the heathen; but not to fire at anybody except 
his friend Wheeler, nor at him unless he should try to 
shove a writ in at some chink of the building. 

This done, he went on his travels, third class, with his 
eyes always open, and his heart full of bitterness. 

Nothing happened to Richard Bassett on his travels, 
that I need relate, until one evening when he alighted at 
a small commercial inn, in the city of York, and there 
met a person whose influence on the events I am about 


126 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


to relate seems at this moment incredible to me, though 
it is simple fact. 

He found the commercial-room empty, and rang the 
bell. In came the waiter, a strapping girl, with coal- 
black eyes, and brows to match, and a brown skin, but 
glowing cheeks. 

They both started at sight of each other. It was Polly 
Somerset. 

“ Why, Polly! How d’ye do ? How do you come 
here ? ” 

“ It’s along of you I’m here, young man,” said Polly, 
and began to whimper. She told him her sister had 
found out from the page she had been colloguing with 
him, and had never treated her like a sister after that. 
“ And, when she married a gentleman, she wouldn’t have 
me aside her, for all I could say, but she did pack me off 
into service, and here I be.” 

The girl was handsome, and had a liking for him. 
Bassett was idle, and time hung heavy on his hands; he 
stayed at the inn a fortnight, more for Polly’s company 
than anything, and at last offered to put her into a 
vacant cottage on his own little estate at Highmore. 
But the girl was shrewd, and had seen a great deal of 
life this last three years; she liked Bichard in her way, 
but she saw he was all self, and she would not trust him. 
“Nay,” said she, “I’ll not break with Bhoda for any 
young man in Britain. If I leave service, she will never 
own me at all; she is as hard as iron.” 

“Well, but you might come and take service near me, 
and then we could often get a word together.” 

“Oh, I am agreeable to that. You find me a good 
place. I like an inn best; one sees fresh faces.” 

Bassett promised to manage that for her. On reaching 
home he found a conciliatory letter from Wheeler, coupled 
with his permission to tax the bill, according to his own 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


127 


notion of justice. This, and other letters, were in an out¬ 
house ; the old soldier had not permitted them to pene¬ 
trate the fortress. He had entered into the spirit of his 
instructions, and to him a letter was a probable hand- 
grenade. 

Bassett sent for Wheeler; the bill was reduced, and a 
small payment made; the rest postponed till better 
times. Wheeler was then consulted about Polly, and he 
told his client the landlady of the “Lamb” wanted a 
good active waitress; he thought he could arrange that 
little affair. 

In due course, thanks to this artist, Mary Wells, hitherto 
known as Polly Somerset, landed with her box at the 
“Lamb,” and with her quick foot, her black eyes, and 
ready tongue, soon added to the popularity of the inn. 
Bichard Bassett, Esq., for one, used to sup there now and 
then with his friend Wheeler, and even sleep there after 
supper. 

By and by the vicar of Huntercombe wanted a servant, 
and offered to engage Mary Wells. 

She thought twice about that. She could neither write 
nor read, and therefore was dreadfully dull without com¬ 
pany ; the bustle of an inn and people coming and going 
amused her. However, it was a temptation to be near 
Bichard Bassett, so she accepted at last. Unable to write, 
she could not consult him, and she made sure he would 
be delighted. 

But when she got into the village the prudent Mr. 
Bassett drew in his horns and avoided her. She was 
mortified and very angry. She revenged herself on her 
employer; broke double her wages. The vicar had never 
been able to convert a smasher, so he parted with her 
very readily to Lady Bassett, with a hint that she was 
rather unfortunate in glass and china. 

In that large house her spirits rose, and, having a 


128 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


hearty manner and a clapper tongue, she became a gen¬ 
eral favorite. 

One day she met Mr. Bassett in the village, and he 
seemed delighted at the sight of her, and begged her to 
meet him that night at a certain place, where Sir Charles’s 
garden was divided from his own by a ha-ha. It was a 
very secluded spot, shut out from view, even in daylight, 
by the trees and shrubs and the winding nature of the 
walk that led to it, yet it was scarcely a hundred yards 
from Huntercombe Hall. 

Mary Wells came to the tryst, but in no amorous 
mood. She came merely to tell Mr. Bassett her mind; 
viz., that he was a shabby fellow, and she had had her 
cry, and didn’t care a straw for him now. And she did 
tell him so, in a loud voice and with a flushed cheek. 

But he set to work, humbly and patiently, to pacify 
her. He represented that, in a small house like the 
vicarage, everything is known; he should have ruined 
her character if he had not held aloof. “ But it is differ¬ 
ent now,” said he. “You can run out of Huntercombe 
Hall and meet me here, and nobody be the wiser.” 

“Not I,” said Mary Wells, with a toss. “The worst 
thing a girl can do is to keep company with a gentleman; 
she must meet him in holes and corners, and be flung 
off like an old glove, when she has served his turn.” 

“That will never happen to you, Polly, dear. We 
must be prudent for the present: but I shall be more my 
own master, some day, and then you will see how I love 
you.” 

“Seeing is believing,” said the girl sullenly. “You 
be too fond of yourself to love the likes o’ me.” 

Such was the warning her natural shrewdness gave 
her. But perseverance undermined it; Bassett so often 
threw out hints of what he would do some day, mixed 
with warm protestations of love, that she began almost 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


129 


to hope he would marry her. She really liked him; his 
fine figure and his color pleased her eye, and he had a 
plausible tongue to boot. 

As for him, her rustic beauty and health pleased his 
senses, but for his heart, she had little place in that. 
What he courted her for just now was to keep him 
informed of all that passed in Huntercombe Hall. His 
morbid soul hung about that place, and he listened 
greedily to Mary Wells’s gossip. He had counted on 
her volubility; it did not disappoint him : she never met 
him without a budget, one-half of it lies or exaggerations. 
She was a born liar. One night she came in high spirits, 
and greeted him thus : “ What d’ye think ? I’m riz! 
Mrs. Eden, that dresses my lady’s hair, she took ill 
yesterday, and I told the housekeeper I was used to dress 
hair, and she told my lady. If you didn’t please our 
Rhoda at that, ’twas as much as your life was worth; 
you mustn’t be thinking of your young man with her 
hair in your hand, or she’d rouse you with a good crack 
on the crown with a hair-brush. So I dressed my lady’s 
hair, and handled it like old chaney; by the same token 
she is so pleased with me you can’t think. She is a real 
lady; not like our Rhoda; speaks as civil to me as if I 
was one of her own sort; and, says she, * I should like 
to have you about me, if I might.’ I had it on my 
tongue to tell her she was mistress, but I was a little 
skeared at her at first, you know. But she will have me 
about her; I see it in her eye.” 

Bassett was delighted at this news; but he did not 
speak his mind all at once ; the time was not come. He 
let the gypsy rattle on, and bided his time. He flattered 
her, and said he envied Lady Bassett to have such a 
beautiful girl about her. “I’ll let my hair grow,” 
said he. 

“ Ay, do,” said she, “ and then I’ll pull it for you.” 

9 


130 


A TEEEIBLE TEMPTATION. 


This challenge ended in a little struggle for a kiss, the 
sincerity of which was doubtful. Polly resisted vigor¬ 
ously, to be sure, but briefly, and, having given in, 
returned it. 

One day she told him Sir Charles had met her plump, 
and had given a^great start. 

This made Bassett very uneasy. “ Confound it, he 
will turn you away! He will say, ‘ This girl knows too 
much. 5 55 

“ How simple you be ! 55 said the girl. “ D’ye think I 
let him know ? Says he, ‘1 think Pve seen you before. 5 
‘ Yes, sir, 5 says I, ‘1 was housemaid here, before my lady 
had me to dress her. 5 ‘No, 5 says he, ‘ I mean in London 
— in Mayfair, you know. 5 I declare, you might ha 5 
knocked me down wi 5 a feather. So I looks in his face, 
as cool as marble, and I says, ‘No, sir; I never had the 
luck to see London, sir, 5 says I. ‘All the better for 
you, 5 says he, and he swallowed it like spring water, as 
sister Khoda used to say when she told one and they 
believed it. 55 

“You are a clever girl, 55 said Bassett. “He would 
have turned you out of the house if he had known who 
you were. 55 

She disappointed him in one thing; she was bad at 
answering questions. Morally she was not quite so great 
an egotist as himself, but intellectually a greater. Her 
volubility was all egotism. She could scarcely say ten 
words, except about herself. So when Bassett ques¬ 
tioned her about Sir Charles and Lady Bassett, she said, 
“Yes, 55 or “No, 55 or “I don’t know, 55 and was off at a 
tangent to her own sayings and doings. 

Bassett, however, by great patience and tact, extracted 
from her at last, that Sir Charles and Lady Bassett were 
both sore at not having children, and that Lady Bassett 
bore the blame. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 131 

“ That is a good joke,” said he, “ the smoke-dried rake! 
Polly, you might do me a good-turn.” 

The young woman shook her head. “Me meddle 
between man and wife! Pm too fond of my place.” 

“Ah, you don't love me as I love you. You think 
only of yourself.” 

“ And what do you think of ? Do you love me well 
enough to find me a better place, if you get me turned 
out of Huntercombe Hall ? ” 

“ Yes, I will; a much better.” 

“ That is a bargain.” 

Mary Wells was silly in some things, but she was very 
cunning, too; and she knew Richard Bassett's hobby. 
She told him to mind himself, as well as Sir Charles, or 
perhaps he would die a bachelor, and so his flesh and 
blood would never inherit Huntercombe. This remark 
entered his mind. The trial, though apparently a drawn 
battle, had been fatal to him — he was cut; he dared 
not pay his addresses to any lady in the county, and he 
often felt very lonely now. So everything combined to 
draw him towards Mary Wells—her swarthy beauty, 
which shone out at church like a black diamond among 
the other women; his own loneliness ; and the pleasure 
these stolen meetings gave him. Custom itself is pleas¬ 
ant, and the company of this handsome chatterbox 
became a habit, and an agreeable one. The young 
woman herself employed a woman’s arts; she was cold 
and loving by turns, till, at last, he gave her what she 
was working for, a downright promise of marriage. 
She pretended not to believe him, and so led him further; 
he swore he would marry her. 

He made one stipulation, however. She really must 
learn to read and write first. 

When he had sworn this, Mary became more uniformly 
affectionate; and as women who have been in service 


132 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


learn great self-government, and can generally please so 
long as it serves their turn, she made herself so agree¬ 
able to him, that he began really to have a downright 
liking for her, a liking bounded, of course, by his incura¬ 
ble selfishness; but, as for his hobby, that was on her 
side. 

Now learning to read and write was wormwood to 
Mary Wells; but the prize was so great; she knew all 
about the Huntercombe estates, partly from her sister, 
partly from Bassett himself. (He must tell his wrongs 
even to this girl.) So she resolved to pursue matrimony, 
even on the severe condition of becoming a scholar. 
She set about it as follows: One day that she was doing 
Lady Bassett’s hair, she sighed several times. This 
was to attract the lady’s attention, and it succeeded. 

“Is there anything the matter, Mary ? ” 

“No, my lady.” 

“ I think there is.” 

“Well, my lady, I am in a little trouble; but it is my 
own people’s fault for not sending of me to school. I 
might be married to-morrow, if I could only read and 
write.” 

“ And can you not ? ” 

“ No, my lady.” 

“ Dear me, I thought everybody could read and write 
nowadays.” 

“ La, no, my lady ! not half of them in our village.” 

“Your parents are much to blame, my poor girl. 
Well, but it is not too late. Now I think of it, there is 
an adult school in the village. Shall I arrange for you 
to go to it ? ” 

“ Thank you, my lady. But then ” — 

“Well?” 

“ All my fellow-servants would have a laugh against 
me.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 133 

" The person you are engaged to, will he not instruct 
you ? ” 

“ Oh, he have no time to teach me. Besides, I don’t 
want him t© know, either. But I won’t be his wife to 
shame him.” (Another sigh.) 

“Mary,” said Lady Bassett, in the innocence of her 
heart, “you shall not be mortified, and you shall not 
lose a good marriage. I will try and teach you myself.” 

Mary was profuse in her thanks. Lady Bassett re¬ 
ceived them rather coldly. She gave her a few minutes’ 
instruction in her dressing-room every day; and Mary, 
who could not have done anything intellectual for half 
an hour at a stretch, gave her whole mind for those few 
minutes. She was quick, and learned very fast. In two 
months she could read a great deal more than she could 
understand, and could write slowly but very clearly. 

Now, by this time, Lady Bassett had become so inter¬ 
ested in her pupil, that she made her read letters and 
newspapers to her, at those parts of the toilet when 
her services were not required. 

Mary Wells, though a great chatterbox, was the closest 
girl in England. Limpet never stuck to a rock as she 
could stick to a lie. She never said one word to Bassett 
about Lady Bassett’s lessons. She kept strict silence, 
till she could write a letter, and then she sent him a line 
to say she had learned to write for love of him, and she 
hoped he would keep his promise. 

Bassett’s vanity was flattered by this. But, on reflec¬ 
tion, he suspected it was a falsehood. He asked her 
suddenly, at their next meeting, who had written that 
note for her. 

“You shall see me write the fellow to it when you 
like,” was the reply. 

Bassett resolved to submit the matter to that test some 
day. At present, however, he took her word for it, and 
asked her who had taught her. 


134 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“I had to teach myself. Nobody cares enough for 
me to teach me. Well, I’ll forgive you, if you will write 
me a nice letter for mine.” 

“ What! when we can meet here and say everything ? ” 

“ No matter; I have written to you; and you might 
write to me. They all get letters, except me; and the 
jades hold ’em up to me: they see I never get one. 
When you are out, post me a letter now and then. It 
will only cost you a penny. I’m sure I don’t ask you 
for much.” 

Bassett humored her in this, and in one of his letters 
called her his wife that was to be. 

This pleased her so much, that, the next time they 
met, she hung round his neck with a good deal of 
feminine grace. 

Bichard Bassett was a man who now lived in the 
future. Everybody in the county believed he had 
written that anonymous letter, and he had no hope of 
shining by his own light. It was bitter to resign his 
personal hopes, but he did, and sullenly resolved to be 
obscure himself, but the father of the future heirs of 
Huntercombe. He would marry Mary Wells, and lay 
the blame of the match upon Sir Charles, who had 
blackened him in the county, and put it out of his power 
to win a lady’s hand. 

He told Wheeler he was determined to marry; but he 
had not the courage to tell him all at once what a wife 
he had selected. 

The consequence of this half-confession was, that 
Wheeler went to work to find him a girl with money, 
and not under county influence. 

One of Wheeler’s clients was a retired citizen, living 
in a pretty villa near the market town. Mr. Wright 
employed him in little matters, and found him active 
and attentive. There was a Miss Wright, a meek little 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


135 


girl, palish, on whom her father doted. Wheeler talked 
to this girl of his friend Bassett, his virtues, and his 
wrongs, and interested the young lady in him. This 
done, he brought him to the house, and the girl, being 
slight and delicate, gazed with gentle hut undisguised 
admiration on Bassett’s torso. Wheeler had told Bichard 
Miss Wright was to have seven thousand pounds on her 
wedding-day ; and that excited a corresponding admira¬ 
tion in the athletic gentleman. 

After that, Bassett often called by himself, and the 
father encouraged the intimacy. He was old, and wished 
to see his daughter married before he left her; and this 
seemed an eligible match, though not a brilliant one: a 
bit of land and a good name on one side; a smart bit of 
money on the other. The thing went on wheels. 
Bichard Bassett was engaged to Jane Wright almost 
before he was aware. 

Now he felt uneasy about Mary Wells, very uneasy; 
but it was only the uneasiness of selfishness. 

He began to try and prepare ; he affected business 
visits to distant places, etc., in order to break off by 
degrees. By this means their meetings were compara¬ 
tively few. When they did meet (which was now gener¬ 
ally by written appointment), he tried to prepare by 
telling her he had encountered losses, and feared that to 
marry her would be a bad job for her, as well as for him, 
especially if she should have children. 

Mary replied she had been used to work, and would 
rather work for a husband than any other master. 

On another occasion she asked him quietly whether a 
gentleman ever broke his oath. 

“ Never,” said Bichard. 

In short, she gave him no opening. She would not 
quarrel. She adhered to him, as she had never adhered 
to anything but a lie before. 


136 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Then he gave up all hope of smoothing the matter. He 
coolly cut her; never came to the trysting-place; did 
not answer her letters; and being a reckless egotist, 
married Jane Wright all in a hurry, by special license. 
He sent forward to the clerk of Huntercombe church, 
and engaged the ringers to ring the church-bells from 
six o’clock till sundown. This was for Sir Charles’s 
ears. 

It was a balmy evening in May. Lady Bassett was 
commencing her toilet in an indolent way, with Mary 
Wells in attendance, when the church bells of Hunter¬ 
combe struck up a merry peal. 

“ Ah ! ” said Lady Bassett. “ What is that for ? Do 
you know, Mary ? ” 

“ No, my lady. Shall I ask ? ” 

“No: I dare say it is a village wedding.” 

“No, my lady: there’s nobody been married here this 
six weeks. Our kitchen-maid and the baker was the 
last, you know. I’ll send and know what it is for.” 

Mary went out, and despatched the first housemaid 
she caught for intelligence. The girl ran into the stable 
to her sweetheart, and he told her directly. 

Meantime Lady Bassett moralized upon church bells. 

“ They are always sad, saddest when they seem to be 
merriest. Poor things ! that are trying hard to be merry 
now; but they sound very sad to me, sadder than usual, 
somehow.” 

The girl knocked at the door. Mary half opened it, 
and the news shot in: “’Tis for Squire Bassett—he 
is bringing of his bride home to Highmore to-day.” 

“ Mr. Bassett — married — that is sudden! Who could 
he find to marry him ? ” 

There was no reply. The housemaid had flown off to 
circulate the news, and Mary Wells was supporting her¬ 
self by clutching the door, sick with the sudden blow. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


137 


Close as she was, her distress could not have escaped 
another woman’s eye; but Lady Bassett never looked at 
her. After the first surprise she had gone into a reverie, 
and was conjuring up the future to the sound of those 
church bells. She requested Mary to go and tell Sir 
Charles; but she did not lift her head, even to give this 
order. 

Mary crept away, and knocked at Sir Charles’s dress¬ 
ing-room. 

“ Come in,” said Sir Charles, thinking, of course, it 
was his valet. 

Mary Wells just opened the door, and held it ajar. 
“ My lady bids me tell you, sir, the bells are ringing for 
Mr. Bassett; he’s married, and brings her home to-night.” 

A dead silence marked the effect of this announce¬ 
ment on Sir Charles. Mary Wells waited. 

“ May Heaven’s curse light on that marriage, and no 
child of theirs ever take my place in this house ! ” 

“ A-a-men ! ” said Mary Wells. 

“Thank you, sir!” said Sir Charles. He took her 
voice for a man’s, so deep and guttural was her 
“ A-a-men ” with concentrated passion. 

She closed the door, and crept back to her mistress. 

Lady Bassett was seated at her glass, with her hair 
down and her shoulders bare. Mary clenched her teeth, 
and set about her usual work, but very soon Lady Bassett 
gave a start, and stared into the glass. “ Mary,” said 
she, “ what is the matter ? You look ghastly, and your 
hands are cold as ice. Are you faint ? ” 

“Ho.” 

“ Then you are ill; very ill.” 

“ I have taken a chill,” said Mary, doggedly. 

“ Go instantly to the still-room maid, and get a large 
glass of spirits and hot water — quite hot.” 

Mary, who wanted to be out of the room, fastened her 


138 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


mistress’s back hair with dogged patience, and then 
moved towards the door. 

“ Mary,” said Lady Bassett, in a half-apologetic tone. 

“My lady.” 

“ I should like to hear what the bride is like.” 

“I’ll know that to-night,” said Mary, grinding her 
teeth. 

“ I shall not require you again till bed-time.” 

Mary left the room and went, not to the still-room, but 
to her own garret, and there she gave way. She flung 
herself with a wild cry upon her little bed, and clutched 
her own hair and the bed-clothes, and writhed all about 
the bed like a wildcat wounded. 

In this anguish she passed an hour she never forgot 
nor forgave. She got up at last, and started at her own 
image in the glass. Hair like a savage’s, cheeks pale, 
eyes bloodshot. 

She smoothed her hair, washed her face, and prepared 
to go down-stairs; but now she was seized with a faint¬ 
ness, and had to sit down and moan. She got the better 
of that, and went to the still-room and got some spirits ; 
but she drank them neat, gulped them down like water. 
They sent the devil into her black eye, but no color into 
her pale cheek. She had a little scarlet shawl; she put 
it over her head, and went into the village. She found 
it astir with expectation. 

Mr. Bassett’s house stood near the highway, but the 
entrance to the premises was private, and through a 
long white gate. 

By this gate was a heap of stones, and Mary Wells got 
on that heap and waited. 

When she had been there about half an hour, Bichard 
Bassett drove up in a hired carriage, with his pale little 
wife beside him. At his own gate his eye encountered Mary 
Wells, and he started. She stood above him, with her 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


139 


arms folded grandly; her cheek, so swarthy and ruddy, 
was now pale ; and her black eyes glittered like basilisks 
at him and his bride. The whole woman seemed lifted 
out of her low condition, and dignified by wrong. 

He had to sustain her look for a few seconds, while 
the gate was being opened, and it seemed an age. He 
felt his first pang of remorse when he saw that swarthy, 
ruddy cheek so pale. Then came admiration of her beauty, 
and disgust at the woman for whom he had jilted her; and 
that gave way to fear — the hater looked into those glit¬ 
tering eyes, and saw he had roused a hate as unrelenting 
as his own. 


140 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

For the first few days Richard Bassett expected some 
annoyance from Mary Wells; but none came, and he 
began to flatter himself she was too fond of him to give 
him pain. 

That impression was shaken about ten days after the 
little scene I have described; he received a short note 
from her, as follows : — 

Sir, — You must meet me to-night, at the same place, eight 
o’clock. If you do not come, it will be the worse for you. 

M. W. 

Richard Bassett’s inclination was to treat this sum¬ 
mons with contempt; but he thought it would be wiser 
to go, and see whether the girl had any hostile intentions. 
Accordingly he went to the tryst. He waited for some 
time, and at last he heard a quick firm foot, and Mary 
Wells appeared. She was hooded with her scarlet shawl 
that contrasted admirably with her coal-black hair; and 
out of this scarlet frame her dark eyes glittered. She 
stood before him in silence. 

He said nothing. 

She was silent, too, for some time. But she spoke 
first. 

“Well, sir, you promised one, and you have married 
another. Now what are you going to do for me ? ” 

“ What can I do, Mary ? I’m not the first that 
wanted to marry for love, but money came in his way 
and tempted him.” 

“ No, you are not the first. But that’s neither here 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


141 


nor there, sir. That chalk-faced girl has bought you 
away from me with her money, and now I mean to have 
my share on’t.” 

“ Oh, if that is all,” said Eichard, “ we can soon settle 
it; I was afraid you were going to talk about a broken 
heart, and all that stuff. You are a good sensible girl, 
and too beautiful to want a husband long. I’ll give you 
fifty pounds to forgive me.” 

“Fifty pounds!” said Mary Wells contemptuously. 
“ What, when you promised me I should be your wife 
to-day, and lady of Huntercombe Hall by-and-by ? Fifty 
pounds! No; not five fifties.” 

“Well, I’ll give you seventy-five, and, if that won’t do, 
you must go to law, and see what you can get.” 

“ What, hain’t you had your bellyful of law ? Mind, 
it is an unked thing to forswear yourself, and that is 
what you done at the ’sizes : I have seen what you did 
swear about your letter to my sister; Sir Charles have got 
it all wrote down in his study; and you swore a lie to the 
judge, as you swore a lie to me here under heaven, you 
villain! ” She raised her voice very loud. “ Don’t you 
gainsay me, or I’ll soon have you by the heels in jail, 
for your lies. You’ll do as I bids you, and very lucky to 
be let off so cheap. You was to be my master, but you 
chose her instead—well, then you shall be my servant. 
You shall come here, every Saturday, at eight o’clock, 
and bring me a sovereign, which I never could keep a 
lump o’ money, and I have had one or two from Ehoda; 
so I’ll take it a sovereign a week, till I get a husband of 
my own sort, and then you’ll have to come down hand¬ 
some once for all.” 

Bassett knitted his brows, and thought hard. His 
natural impulse was to defy her; but it struck him that 
a great many things might happen in a few months ; so 
at last he said humbly, “I consent: I have been to 


142 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


blame. Only Pd rather pay you this money in some 
other way.” 

“ My way, or none.” 

“ Very well, then, I will bring it you as you say.” 

“ Mind you do, then,” said Mary Wells, and turned 
haughtily on her heel. 

Bassett never ventured to absent himself at the hour; 
and, at first, the blackmail was delivered and received 
with scarcely a word; but by-and-by old habits so far 
revived, that some little conversation took place. 

Then, after a while, Bassett used to tell her he was 
unhappy, and she used to reply she was glad of it. 

Then he began to speak slightingly of his wife, and 
say what a fool he had been to marry a poor, silly 
nonentity, when he might have wedded a beauty. 

Mary Wells, being intensely vain, listened with com¬ 
placency to this, although she replied coldly and harshly. 

By-and-by her natural volubility overpowered her, and 
she talked to Bassett about herself, and Huntercombe 
Hall, but always with a secret reserve. 

Later, such is the force of habit, each used to look 
forward, with satisfaction, to the Saturday meeting, 
although each distrusted and feared the other at bottom. 

Later still, that came to pass which Mary Wells had 
planned from the first with deep malice, and that shrewd 
insight into human nature which many a low woman has 
— the cooler she was, the warmer did Bichard Bassett 
grow, till, at last, contrasting his pale, meek little wife 
with this glowing Hebe, he conceived an unholy liking 
for the latter. She met it, sometimes with coldness and 
reproaches, sometimes with affected alarm, sometimes 
with a half-yielding manner, and so tormented him to 
her heart’s content, and undermined his affection for his 
wife. Thus she revenged herself on them both to her 
heart’s content. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


143 


But malice so perverse is apt to recoil on itself; and 
women, in particular, should not undertake a long and 
subtle revenge of this sort; since the strongest have their 
hours of weakness, and are surprised into things they 
never intended. The subsequent history of Mary Wells 
will exemplify this. Meantime, however, meek little 
Mrs. Bassett was no match for the beauty and low 
cunning of her rival. 

Yet a time came when she defended herself uncon¬ 
sciously. She did something that made her husband 
most solicitous for her welfare and happiness; he began 
to watch her health with maternal care, to shield her 
from draughts, to take care of her diet, to indulge her in 
all her whims instead of snubbing her, and to pet her, 
till she was the happiest wife in England for a time. 
She deserved this at his hands, for she assisted him 
there where his heart was fixed; she aided his hobby; 
did more for it than any other creature in England 
could. 

To return to Huntercombe Hall; the loving couple 
that owned it were no longer happy. The hope of 
offspring was now deserting them, and the disappoint¬ 
ment was cruel. They suffered deeply, with this differ¬ 
ence, that Lady Bassett pined, and Sir Charles fretted. 

The woman’s grief was more pure and profound than 
the man’s. If there had been no Richard Bassett in the 
world, still her bosom would have yearned and pined, 
and the great cry of nature, “ Give me children or I die,” 
would have been in her heart, though it would never 
have risen to her lips. 

Sir Charles had of course less of this profound in¬ 
stinct than his wife, but he had it too; only, in him the 
feeling was adulterated, and at the same time embittered 
by one less simple and noble. An enemy sat at his 
gate; that enemy, whose enduring malice had at last 


144 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


begotten equal hostility in the childless baronet, was 
now married, and would probably have heirs; and, if so, 
that hateful brood, the spawn of an anonymous letter- 
writer, would surely inherit Bassett and Huntercombe, 
succeeding to Sir Charles Bassett, deceased without issue. 
This chafed the childless man, and gradually undermined 
a temper habitually sweet, though subject, as we have 
seen, to violent ebullitions where the provocation was 
intolerable. Sir Charles then, smarting under his wound, 
spoke now and then rather unkindly to the wife he 
loved so devotedly; that is to say, his manner some¬ 
times implied that he blamed her for their joint calamity. 

Lady Bassett submitted to these stings in silence. 
They were rare, and speedily followed by touching 
regrets; and, even had it not been so, she would have 
borne them with resignation; for this motherless wife 
loved her husband with all a wife’s devotion, and a 
mother’s unselfish patience. Let this be remembered to 
her credit; it is the truth, and she may need it. 

Her own yearning was too deep and sad for fretful¬ 
ness : yet though, unlike her husband’s, it never broke 
out in anger, the day was gone by when she could keep 
it always silent. It welled out of her at times in ways 
that were truly womanly and touching. 

When she called on a wife, the lady was sure to parade 
her children; the boasted tact of women — a quality, 
the narrow compass of which has escaped their undis¬ 
criminating eulogists — was always swept away by mater¬ 
nal egotism ; and then poor Lady Bassett would admire 
the children loudly, and kiss them, to please the cruel 
egotist, and hide the tears that rose to her own eyes; 
but she would shorten her visit. 

When a child died in the village, Mary Wells was 
sure to be sent with words of comfort, and substantial 
marks of sympathy. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


145 


Scarcely a day passed that something or other did not 
happen to make the wound bleed; but I will confine 
myself to two occasions, on each of which her heart’s 
agony spoke out, and so revealed how much it must have 
endured in silence. 

Since the day when Sir Charles allowed her to sit in 
a little room close to his study while he received Mr. 
Wheeler’s visit, she had fitted up that room, and often 
sat there, to be near Sir Charles; and he would some¬ 
times call her in, and tell her his justice cases. One 
day she was there when the constable brought in a 
prisoner and several witnesses. The accused was a stout, 
florid girl, with plump cheeks, and pale gray eyes : she 
seemed all health, stupidity, and simplicity. She carried 
a child on her left arm. No dweller in cities could sus¬ 
pect this face of crime. As well indict a calf. 

Yet the witnesses proved beyond a doubt, that she had 
been seen with her baby in the neighborhood of a cer¬ 
tain old well, on a certain day at noon; that soon after 
noon she had been seen on the road without her baby, 
and, being asked what had become of it, had said she 
had left it with her aunt, ten miles off; and that about 
an hour after that, a faint cry had been heard at the 
bottom of the old well: it was ninety feet deep ; people 
had assembled, and a brave farmer’s boy had been low¬ 
ered in the bight of a cart-rope, and had brought up a 
dead hen and a live child bleeding at the cheek, having 
fallen on a heap of fagots at the bottom of the well. 
Which child was the prisoner’s. 

Sir Charles had the evidence written down, and then 
told the accused she might make a counter-statement if 
she chose, but it would be wiser to say nothing at all. 

Thereupon the accused dropped him a little short 
courtesy, looked him steadily in the face with her pale 
gray eyes, and delivered herself as follows: — 

10 


146 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ If you please, sir, I was a-sitting by th’ old well, with 
baby in my arms; and I was mortal tired, I was, wi’ 
carring of him; he be uncommon heavy for his age: and 
if you please, sir, he is uncommon resolute; and, whilst 
I was so, he gave a leap right out of my arms, and fell 
down th’ old well. I screams, and runs away to tell my 
brother’s wife, as lives at top of the hill; but she was 
gone into North Wood for dry sticks to light her oven; 
and, when I comes back, they had got him out of the 
well, and I claims him directly; and the constable said 
we must come before you, sir; so here we be.” 

This she delivered very glibly, without tremulousness, 
hesitation, or the shadow of a blush, and dropped an¬ 
other little courtesy at the end to Sir Charles. 

Thereupon, he said not one word to her, but committed 
her for trial, and gave the farmer’s boy a sovereign. 

The people were no sooner gone, than Lady Bassett 
came in with the tears streaming, and threw herself at 
her husband’s knees. “Oh, Charles! can such things 
be ? Does God give a child to a woman that has the 
heart to kill it, and refuse one to me, who would give 
my heart’s blood to save a hair of its little head ? Oh, 
what have we done, that He singles us out to be so cruel 
to us ? ” 

Then Sir Charles tried to comfort her, but could not, 
and the childless ones wept together. 

It began to be whispered that Mrs. Bassett was in the 
family way. Neither Sir Charles nor Lady Bassett men¬ 
tioned this rumor. It would have been like rubbing 
vitriol into their own wounds. But this reserve was 
broken through one day. It was a sunny afternoon in 
June, just thirteen months after Mr. Bassett’s wedding; 
Lady Bassett was with her husband in his study, settling 
invitations for a ball, and writing them, when the 
church bells struck up a merry peal. They both left 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


147 


off, and looked at each other eloquently. Lady Bassett 
went out, but soon returned looking pale and wild. 

“ Yes! ” said she, with forced calmness; then, sud¬ 
denly losing her self-command, she broke out, pointing 
through the window at Highmore. “ He has got a fine 
boy — to take our place here. Kill me, Charles ! Send 
me to heaven to pray for you: and take another wife 
that will love you less, but be like other wives. That 
villain has married a fruitful vine, and (lifting both 
arms to heaven with a gesture unspeakably piteous, 
poetic, and touching) I am a barren stock.” 


148 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Of all the fools Nature produces with the help of 
society, fathers of first-borns are about the most offensive. 

The mothers of ditto are bores too, flinging their 
cherubic dumplings at every head; but, considering the 
tortures they have suffered, and the anguish the little 
egotistical viper they have just hatched will most likely 
give them, and considering further that their love of 
their first-born is greater than their pride unstained by 
vanity, one must make allowances for them. 

But the male parent is not so excusable. His fussy 
vanity is an inferior article to the mother’s silly but 
amiable pride. His obtrusive affection is two-thirds of 
it egotism, and blindish egotism too; for if, at the very 
commencement of the wife’s pregnancy, the husband is 
sent to India, or hanged, the little angel, as they call it 
— Lord forgive them ! — is nurtured from a speck to a 
mature infant by the other parent, and finally brought 
into the world by her just as effectually as if her male 
confederate had been tied to her apron-strings all the 
time, instead of expatriated or hanged. 

Therefore the law—for want, I suppose, of studying 
medicine — is a little inconsiderate in giving children 
to fathers, and taking them by force from such mothers 
as can support them ; and therefore let Gallina go on 
clucking over her first-born, but Gallus be quiet, or sing 
a little smaller. 

With these preliminary remarks, let me introduce to 
you a character new in fiction, but terribly old in his¬ 
tory, — The clucking cock. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


149 


Upon the birth of a son and heir Mr. Richard Bassett 
was inflated almost to bursting. He became suddenly 
hospitable, collected all his few friends about him, and 
showed them all the Boy at great length, and talked 
Boy and little else. He went out into the world, and 
made calls on people, merely to remind them that he had 
a son and heir. 

His self-gratulation took a dozen forms; perhaps the 
most amusing, and the richest food for satire, was the 
mock-querulous style, of which he showed himself a 
master. 

“ Don’t you ever marry,” said he to Wheeler and 
others. “ Look at me; do you think I am the master of 
my own house ? Not I: I am a regular slave. First, 
there is a monthly nurse, who orders me out of my 
wife’s presence, or graciously lets me in, just as she 
pleases; that is Queen 1. Then there’s a wet-nurse, 
Queen 2, whom I must humor in everything, or she will 
quarrel with me, and avenge herself by souring her milk. 
But these are mild tyrants compared with the young 
King himself. If he does but squall, we must all skip, 
and find out what he ails, or what he wants. As for me, 
I am looked upon as a necessary evil; the women seem 
to admit that a father is an encumbrance without which 
these little angels could not exist, but that is all.” 

He had a christening feast, and it was pretty well 
attended; for he reminded all he asked that the young 
Christian was the heir to the Bassett estates. They 
feasted, and the church bells rang merrily. 

He had his pew in the church new lined with cloth, 
and took his wife to be churched. The nurse was in the 
pew, too, with his son and heir. It squalled and spoiled 
the Liturgy. Thereat Gallus chuckled. 

He made a gravel walk all along the ha-ha that sepa¬ 
rated his garden from Sir Charles’s, and called it “ The 


150 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Heir’s Walk.” Here the nurse and child used to parade 
on sunny afternoons. 

He got an army of workmen, and built a nursery fit 
for a duke’s nine children. It occupied two entire stories, 
and rose in the form of a square tower high above the 
rest of his house, which indeed was as humble as “ The 
Heir’s Tower ” was pretentious. “ The Heir’s Tower ” 
had a flat lead roof easy of access, and from it you could 
inspect Huntercombe Hall, and see what was done on 
the lawn or at some of the windows. 

Here, in the August afternoons, Mr. and Mrs. Bassett 
used to sit drinking their tea, with nurse and child; and 
Bassett would talk to his unconscious boy, and tell him 
that the great house and all that belonged to it should be 
his, in spite of the arts that had been used to rob him 
of it. 

How, of course, the greater part of all this gratu- 
lation was merely amusing, and did no harm, except 
stirring up the bile of a few old bachelors, and embitter¬ 
ing them worse than ever against clucking cocks, crowing 
hens, inflated parents, and matrimony in general. 

But the overflow of it reached Huntercombe Hall, 
and gave cruel pain to the childless ones, over whom 
this inflated father was in fact exulting. 

As for the christening, and the bells that pealed for 
it, and the subsequent churching, they bore these things 
with sore hearts, but bravely, being things of course. 
But when it came to their ears that Bassett and his 
family called his new gravel walk “The Heir’s Walk,” 
and his ridiculous nursery “ The Heir’s Tower,” this 
roused a bitter animosity, and indeed led to reprisals. 
Sir Charles built a long wall at the edge of his garden, 
shutting out “ The Heir’s Walk,” and intercepting the 
view of his own premises from that walk. 

Then Mr. Bassett made a little hill at the end of his 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


151 


walk, so that the heir might get one peep over the wall 
at his rich inheritance. 

Then Sir Charles began to fell timber on a gigantic 
scale. He went to work with several gangs of woodmen, 
and all his woods, which were very extensive, rang with 
the axe, and the trees fell like corn. He made no secret 
that he was going to sell timber to the tune of several 
thousand pounds, and settle it on his wife. 

Then Richard Bassett, through Wheeler his attorney, 
remonstrated in his own name, and that of his son, 
against this excessive fall of timber on an entailed 
estate. 

Sir Charles chafed like a lion stung by a gadfly, but 
vouchsafed no reply; the answer came from Mr. Old¬ 
field ; he said Sir Charles had a right under the entail to 
fell every stick of timber, and turn his wood into arable 
ground if he chose; and, even if he had not, looking at 
his age and his wife’s, it was extremely improbable that 
Richard Bassett would inherit the estates: the said 
Richard Bassett was not personally named in the entail, 
and his rights were all in supposition; if Mr. Wheeler 
thought he could dispute both these positions, the Court 
of Chancery was open to his client. 

Then Wheeler advised Bassett to avoid the Court of 
Chancery in a matter so debatable; and Sir Charles 
felled all the more for the protest. The dead bodies of 
the trees fell across each other, and daylight peeped 
through the thick woods. It was like the clearing of a 
primeval forest. 

Richard Bassett went about with a witness, and 
counted the fallen. 

The poor were allowed the lop-wood; they thronged 
in for miles round, and each built himself a great wood- 
pile for the winter; the poor blessed Sir Charles; he 
gave the proceeds — thirteen thousand pounds — to his 


152 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


wife, for her separate use. He did not tie it up. He 
restricted her no further than this : she undertook never 
to draw above a hundred pounds at a time without con¬ 
sulting Mr. Oldfield as to the application. Sir Charles 
said he should add to this fund every year; his beloved 
wife should not be poor, even if the hated cousin should 
outlive him and turn her out of Huntercombe. 

And so passed the summer of that year; then the 
autumn; and then came a singularly mild winter. 
There was more hunting than usual, and Bichard 
Bassett, whom his wife’s fortune enabled to cut a better 
figure than before, was often in the field, mounted on a 
great bony horse that was not so fast as some, being 
half-bred, but a wonderful jumper. 

Even in this pastime the cousins were rivals. Sir 
Charles’s favorite horse was a magnificent thoroughbred, 
who was seldom far off at the finish; over good ground 
Bichard’s cocktail had no chance with him, but some¬ 
times, if towards the close of the run they came to stiff 
fallows and strong fences, the great strength of the in¬ 
ferior animal, and that prudent reserve of his powers 
which distinguishes the canny cocktail from the higher- 
blooded animal, would give him the advantage. 

Of this there occurred, on a certain 18th of November, 
an example fraught with very serious consequences. 

That day the hounds met on Sir Charles’s estate. Sir 
Charles and Lady Bassett breakfasted in pink; he had 
on his scarlet coat, white tie, irreproachable buckskins, 
and top-boots. (It seemed a pity a speck of dirt should 
fall on them.) Lady Bassett was in her riding-habit; 
and, when she mounted her pony, and went to cover by 
his side, with her blue velvet cap, and her red-brown 
hair, she looked more like a brilliant flower than a mere 
woman. 

A veteran fox was soon found, and went away with 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


153 


unusual courage and speed, and Lady Bassett paced 
homewards to wait her lord’s return, with an anxiety 
men laugh at, hut women can appreciate. It was a form 
of quiet suffering she had constantly endured, and never 
complained, nor even mentioned the subject to Sir 
Charles but once, and then he pooh-poohed her fancies. 

The hunt had a burst of about forty minutes, that left 
Bichard Bassett’s cocktail in the rear; and the fox got 
into a large beech wood with plenty of briers, and kept 
dodging about it for two hours, and puzzled the scent 
repeatedly. 

Bichard Bassett elected not to go winding in and out 
among trees, risk his horse’s legs in rabbit-holes, and tire 
him for nothing. He had kept for years a little note¬ 
book he called “ Statistics of Foxes,” and that told him 
an old dog-fox of uncommon strength, if dislodged from 
that particular wood, would slip into Bell-man’s Cop¬ 
pice, and, if driven out of that, would face the music 
again, would take the open country for Higham Gorse, 
and probably be killed before he got there; but once 
there, a regiment of scythes might cut him out, but 
bleeding, sneezing fox-hounds would never work him out 
at the tail of a long run. 

So Bichard Bassett kept out of the wood, and went 
gently on to Bell-man’s Coppice, and waited outside. 

His book proved an oracle. After two hours’ dodging 
and manoeuvring, the fox came out at the very end of 
Bell-man’s Coppice, with nothing near him but Bichard 
Bassett. Pug gave him the white of his eye in an ugly 
leer, and headed straight as a crow for Higham Gorse. 

Bichard Bassett blew his horn, collected the hunt, and 
laid the dogs on; away they went, close together, thun¬ 
der-mouthed, on the hot scent. 

After a three miles’ gallop, they sighted the fox, for a 
moment, just going over the crest of a rising ground two 


154 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


furlongs off. Then the hullah-baloo and excitement 
grew furious, and one electric fury animated dogs, men, 
and horses. Another mile, and the fox ran in sight 
scarcely a furlong off; but many of the horses were dis¬ 
tressed ; the Bassetts, however, kept up, one by his 
horse being fresh, the other by his animal’s native 
courage and speed. 

Then came some meadows, bounded by a thick hedge, 
and succeeded by a ploughed field of unusual size — 
eighty acres. 

When the fox darted into this hedge, the hounds were 
yelling at his heels; the hunt burst through the thin 
fence, expecting to see them kill close to it. 

But the wily fox had other resources at his command 
than speed. Appreciating his peril, he doubled and ran 
sixty yards down the ditch, and the impetuous hounds 
rushed forward and overran the scent. They raved 
about to and fro, till, at last, one of the gentlemen 
descried the fox running down a double furrow in the 
middle of the field. He had got into this, and so made 
his way more smoothly than his four-footed pursuers 
could. The dogs were laid on, and away they went 
helter-skelter. 

At the end of this stiff ground a stiffish leap awaited 
them; an old quickset had been cut down, and all the 
elm trees that grew in it, and a new quickset hedge set 
on a high bank with double ditches. 

The huntsman had an Irish horse that laughed at this 
fence; he jumped on to the bank, and then jumped off 
it into the next field. Richard Bassett’s cocktail came 
up slowly, rose high, and landed his fore-feet in the 
field, and so scrambled on. 

Sir Charles went at it rather rashly; his horse, tried 
hard by the fallow, caught his heels against the edge of 
the bank, and went headlong into the other ditch, throw- 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


155 


ing Sir Charles over his head into the field. Unluckily 
some of the trees were lying about, and Sir Charles’s 
head struck one of these in falling; the horse blundered 
out again, and galloped after the hounds, but the rider 
lay there motionless. 

Nobody stopped at first; the pace was too good to 
inquire; but presently Richard Bassett, who had greeted 
the accident with a laugh, turned round in his saddle, 
and saw his cousin motionless, and two or three gentle¬ 
men dismounting at the place. These were new-comers. 
Then he resigned the hunt and rode back. 

Sir Charles’s cap was crushed in, and there was blood 
on his white waistcoat: he was very pale, and quite in¬ 
sensible. 

The gentlemen raised him, with expressions of alarm 
and kindly concern, and inquired of each other what was 
best to be done. 

Richard Bassett saw an opportunity to conciliate 
opinion, and seized it. “ He must be taken home 
directly,” said he. “We must carry him to that farm¬ 
house, and get a cart for him.” 

He helped carry him accordingly. 

The farmer lent them a cart with straw, and they laid 
the insensible baronet gently on it, Richard Bassett sup¬ 
porting his head. “ Gentlemen,” said he, rather pomp¬ 
ously, “at such a moment everything but the tie of 
kindred is forgotten.” Which resounding sentiment was 
warmly applauded by the honest squires. 

They took him slowly and carefully towards Hunter- 
combe, distant about two miles from the scene of the 
accident. 

This 18th of November Lady Bassett passed much as 
usual with her on hunting-days. She was quietly 
patient till the afternoon, and then restless, and could 
not settle down in any part of the house till she got to a 


156 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


little room on the first floor, with a bay window com¬ 
manding the country over which Sir Charles was hunt¬ 
ing. In this she sat, with her head against one of the 
mullions, and eyed the country-side as far as she could 
see. 

Presently she heard a rustle, and there was Mary 
Wells standing and looking at her with evident emotion. 

“ What is the matter, Mary ? ” said Lady Bassett. 

“ Oh, my lady! ” said Mary. And she trembled, and 
her hands worked. 

Lady Bassett started up, with alarm painted in her 
countenance. 

“My lady, there’s something wrong in the hunting- 
field.” 

“ Sir Charles ! ” 

“ An accident, they say.” 

Lady Bassett put her hand to her heart with a faint 
cry. Mary Wells ran to her. 

“ Come with me directly ! ” cried Lady Bassett. She 
snatched up her bonnet, and, in another minute, she and 
Mary Wells were on their road to the village, question¬ 
ing everybody they met. 

But nobody they questioned could tell them anything. 
The stable-boy, who had told the report in the kitchen 
of Huntercombe, said he had it from a gentleman’s 
groom, riding by, as he stood at the gates. 

The ill news thus flung in at the gate by one passing 
rapidly by was not confirmed by any further report, and 
Lady Bassett began to hope it was false. 

But a terrible confirmation came at last. 

In the outskirts of the village, mistress and servant 
encountered a sorrowful procession, — the cart itself, 
followed by five gentlemen on horseback, pacing slowly, 
and downcast as at a funeral. 

In the cart Sir Charles Bassett, splashed all over with 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


157 


mud, and his white waistcoat bloody, lay with his head 
upon Richard Bassett’s knee. His hair was wet with 
blood, some of which had trickled down his cheek and 
dried. Even Richard’s buckskins were slightly stained 
with it. 

At that sight Lady Bassett uttered a scream, which 
those who heard it never forgot, and flung herself, 
Heaven knows how, into the cart; but she got there, 
and soon had that bleeding head on her bosom. She 
took no notice of Richard Bassett, but she got Sir Charles 
away from him, and the cart took her, embracing him 
tenderly, and kissing his hurt head, and moaning over 
him, all through the village to Huntercombe Hall. 

Four years ago they passed through the same village, 
in a carriage and four, bells pealing, rustics shouting, to 
take possession of Huntercombe, and fill it with pledges 
of their great and happy love; and, as they flashed past, 
the heir-at-law shrank hopeless into his little cottage. 
How, how changed the pageant! a farmer’s cart, a 
splashed and bleeding and senseless form in it, sup¬ 
ported by a childless, s despairing woman, one weeping 
attendant walking at the side, and, amongst the gentle¬ 
men pacing slowly behind, the heir-at-law, with his head 
lowered in that decent affectation of regret which all 
heirs can put on to hide the indecent complacency 
within. 


158 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER XV. 

At the steps of Huntereombe Hall the servants streamed 
out, and relieved the strangers of the sorrowful load: Sir 
Charles was carried into the hall, and Richard Bassett 
turned away with one triumphant flash of his eye, quickly 
suppressed, and walked with impenetrable countenance 
and studied demeanor into Highmore House. 

Even here he did not throw off the mask. It peeled 
off by degrees. He began by telling his wife, gravely 
enough, Sir Charles had met with a severe fall, and he 
had attended to him, and taken him home. 

“Ah, I am glad you did that, Richard,” said Mrs. 
Bassett. “ And is he very badly hurt ? ” 

“I am afraid he will hardly get over it. He never 
spoke. He just groaned when they took him down from 
the cart at Huntereombe.” 

“ Poor Lady Bassett! ” 

“Ay, it will be a bad job for her;” then, after a 
pause, “Jane! ” 

“Yes, dear.” 

“ There is a providence in it. The fall would never 
have killed him; but his head struck a tree upon the 
ground; and that tree was one of the very elms he had 
just cut down to rob our boy.” 

“ Indeed ? ” 

“Yes; he was felling the very hedge-row timber, and 
this was one of the old elms in a hedge. He must have 
done it out of spite, for elm-wood fetches no price: it is 
good for nothing I know of, except coffins. Well, he 
has cut down his.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


159 


“ Poor man! Richard, death, reconciles enemies. 
Surely, you can forgive him now.” 

“ I mean to try.” 

Richard Bassett seemed now to have imbibed the spirit 
of quicksilver. His occupations were not actually en¬ 
larged, yet, somehow or other, he seemed full of business. 
He was all complacent bustle about nothing. He left off 
inveighing against Sir Charles; and, indeed, if you are 
one of those weak spirits to whom censure is intolerable, 
there is a cheap and easy way to moderate the rancor of 
detraction: you have only to die. Let me comfort 
genius in particular with this little recipe. 

Why, on one occasion, Bassett actually snubbed Wheeler 
for a mere allusion. That worthy just happened to re¬ 
mark, “ Ho more felling of timber on Bassett manor for 
awhile.” 

“ For shame ! ” said Richard. “ The man had his 
faults, but he had his good qualities, too: a high-spirited 
gentleman, beloved by his friends, and respected by all 
the country. His successor will find it hard to reconcile 
the county to his loss.” 

Wheeler stared, and then grinned satirically. 

This eulogy was never repeated, for Sir Charles proved 
ungrateful: he omitted to die after all. 

Attended by first-rate physicians, tenderly nursed and 
watched by Lady Bassett and Mary Wells, he got better 
by degrees, and every stage of his slow but hopeful 
progress was communicated to the servants and the 
village, and to the ladies and gentlemen who rode up to 
the door every day, and left their cards of inquiry. 

The most attentive of all these was the new rector, — 
a young clergyman, who had obtained the living by 
exchange. He was a man highly gifted both in body 
and mind: a swarthy Adonis, whose large, dark eyes 
from the very first turned with glowing admiration on 
the blonde beauties of Lady Bassett. 


160 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


He came every day to inquire after her husband; and 
she sometimes left the sufferer a minute or two to make 
her report to him in person. At other times Mary Wells 
was sent to him. That artful girl soon discovered some¬ 
thing that escaped her mistress’s observation. 

The bulletins were favorable, and welcomed on all 
sides. 

Richard Bassett alone was incredulous. “I want to 
see him about again,” said he. “ Sir Charles is not the 
man to lie in bed, if he was really better. As for the 
doctors, they flatter a fellow till the last moment. Let 
me see him on his legs, and then I’ll believe he is better.” 

Strange to say, obliging Fate granted Bichard Bassett 
this moderate request. One frosty but sunny afternoon, 
as he was inspecting his coming domain from “The 
Heir’s Tower,” he saw the hall door open, and a muffled 
figure come slowly down the steps between two women. 
It was Sir Charles, feeble, but convalescent. He crept 
about on the sunny gravel for about ten minutes, and 
then his nurses conveyed him tenderly in again. 

This sight, which might have touched with pity a 
more generous nature, startled Bichard Bassett, and 
then moved his bile. “ I was a fool,” said he; “ nothing 
will ever kill that man. He will see me out; see us all 
out. And that Mary Wells nurses him, and, I dare say, 
is in love with him by this time : the fools can’t nurse a 
man without. Curse the whole pack of ye ! ” he yelled, 
and turned away in rage and disgust. 

That same night he met Mary Wells, and, in a strange 
fit of jealousy, began to make hot protestations of love 
to her. He knew it was' use reproaching her, so he 
went on the other tack. 

She received his vows with cool complacency, but 
would only stay a minute, and would only talk of her 
master and mistress, towards whom her heart was really 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


161 


warming in their trouble. She spoke hopefully, and 
said, “’Tisn’t as if he was one of your faint-hearted 
ones as meet death half-way. Why, the second day, 
when he could scarce speak, he sees me crying by the 
bed, and says he, almost in a whisper, ‘What are you 
crying for ? ’— ‘ Sir/ says I, ‘ ’tis for you: to see you lie 
like a ghost/ — ‘Then, you be wasting of salt water/ 
says he. ‘ I wish I may, sir/ says I. So then he raised 
himself up a little bit; ‘ Look at me/ says he ; ‘ I’m a 
Bassett. I am not the breed to die for a crack on the 
skull, and leave you all to the mercy of them that would 
have no mercy 9 — which he meant you, I suppose. So 
he ordered me to leave crying, which I behooved to obey, 
for he will be master, mind ye, while he have a finger to 
wag, poor dear gentleman, he will.” 

And, soon after this, she resisted all his attempts to 
detain her, and scudded back to the house, leaving 
Bassett to his reflections, which were exceedingly bitter. 

Sir Charles got better, and at last used to walk daily 
with Lady Bassett. Their favorite stroll was up and 
down the lawn, close under the boundary wall he had 
built to shut out “ The Heir’s Walk.” 

The afternoon sun struck warm upon that wall, and 
the walk by its side. 

On the other side a nurse often carried little Dicky 
Bassett, the heir; but neither of the promenaders could 
see each other for the wall. 

Bichard Bassett, on the contrary, from “ The Heir’s 
Tower,” could see both these little parties; and, as some 
men cannot keep away from what causes their pain, he 
used to watch these loving walks, and see Sir Charles 
get stronger and stronger, till, at last, instead of leaning 
on his beloved wife, he could march by her side, or even 
give her his arm. 

Yet the picture was, in a great degree, delusive; for, 

U 


162 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


except during these blissful walks, when the sun shone 
on him, and Love and Beauty soothed him, Sir Charles 
was not the man he had been. The shake he had received 
appeared to have damaged his temper strangely. He 
became so irritable that several of his servants left him; 
and to his wife he repined; and his childless condition, 
which had been hitherto only a deep disappointment, 
became in his eyes a calamity that outweighed his many 
blessings. He had now narrowly escaped dying without 
an heir, and this seemed to sink into his mind, and 
co-operating with the concussion his brain had received, 
brought him into a morbid state. He brooded on it, and 
spoke of it, and got back to it from every other topic in 
a way that distressed Lady Bassett unspeakably. She 
consoled him bravely; but often, when she was alone, 
her gentle courage gave way, and she cried bitterly to 
herself. 

Her distress had one effect she little expected; it com¬ 
pleted what her invariable kindness had begun, and 
actually won the heart of a servant. Those who really 
know that tribe will agree with me that this was a mar¬ 
vellous conquest. Yet so it was. Mary Wells conceived 
for her a real affection, and showed it by unremitting 
attention, and a soft and tender voice that soothed Lady 
Bassett, and drew many a silent but grateful glance from 
her dove-like eyes. 

Mary listened, and heard enough to blame Sir Charles 
for his peevishness, and she began to throw out little 
expressions of dissatisfaction at him; but these were so 
promptly discouraged by the faithful wife, that she drew 
in again, and avoided that line. 

But one day, coming softly as a cat, she heard Sir 
Charles and Lady Bassett talking over their calamity. 
Sir Charles was saying that it was Heaven’s curse; that 
all the poor people in the village had children; that 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


163 


Richard Bassett’s weak puny little wife had brought 
him an heir, and was about to make him a parent again; 
he alone was marked out, and doomed to be the last of 
his race. “And yet,” said he, “if I had married any 
other woman, and you had married any other man, we 
should have had children by the dozen, I suppose.” 

Upon the whole, though he said nothing palpably 
unjust, he had the tone of a man blaming his wife as 
the real cause of their joint calamity, under which she 
suffered a deeper, nobler, and more silent anguish than 
himself. This was hard to bear, and when Sir Charles 
went away Mary Wells ran in, with an angry expression 
on the tip of her tongue. 

She found Lady Bassett in a pitiable condition, lying, 
rather than leaning, on the table, with her hair loose 
about her, sobbing as if her heart would break. 

All that was good in Mary Wells tugged at her heart¬ 
strings. She flung herself on her knees beside her, and 
seizing her mistress’s hand, and drawing it to her bosom, 
fell to crying and sobbing along with her. 

This canine devotion took Lady Bassett by surprise. 
She turned her tearful eyes upon her sympathizing 
servant, and said, “ 0 Mary! ” and her soft hand pressed 
the girl’s harder palm gratefully. 

Mary spoke first. 

“Oh, my lady,” she sobbed, “it breaks my heart to 
see you so. And what a sjiame to blame you for what is 
no fault of yourn! ’Tis always our side gets the blame. 
Why, all these fine gentlemen, they be old before their 
time with smoking of tobacco; and then to come and 
lay the fault on we! ” 

“ Mary, I value you very much; more than I ever did 
a servant in my life; but if you speak against your 
master, we shall part.” 

“ La, my lady, I wouldn’t for the world. Sir Charles 


164 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


is a perfect gentleman. Why, he gave me a sovereign 
only the other day for nursing of him; but he didn’t 
ought to blame you for no fault of yourn, and to make 
you cry. It tears me inside out to see you cry, you that 
is so good to rich and poor. I wouldn’t vex myself so 
for that. Dear heart, ’twas always so, — God sends meat 
to one house, and mouths to t’other.” 

“I could be patient if poor Sir Charles was not so 
unhappy,” sighed Lady Bassett; “ but if ever you are a 
wife, Mary, you will know how wretched it makes us to 
see a beloved husband unhappy.” 

“ Then I’d make him happy,” said Mary. 

“ Ah, if I only could! ” 

“ Oh, I could tell you a way, for I have known it done; 
and now he is as happy as a prince. You see, my lady, 
some men are like children: to make them happy you 
must give them their own way. And so, if I was in 
your place, I wouldn’t make two bites of a cherry, for 
sometimes I think he will fret himself out of the world 
for want on’t.” 

“ Heaven forbid! ” 

“ It is my belief you would not be long behind him.” 

“No, Mary. Why should I ? ” 

“ Then — whisper, my lady.” 

And although Lady Bassett drew slightly back at this 
freedom, Mary Wells poured into her ear a proposal that 
made her stare and shiver. 

As for the girl’s own face, it was as unmoved as if it 
had been bronze. 

Lady Bassett drew back, and eyed her askant with 
amazement and terror. 

“ What is this you have dared to say ? ” 

“ Why, it is done every day.” 

“By people of your class, perhaps. No, I don’t 
believe it. Mary, I have been mistaken in you. I am 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


165 


afraid you are a vicious girl. Leave me, please. I can’t 
bear the sight of you.” 

Mary went away, very red, and the tear in her eye. 

In the evening Lady Bassett gave Mary Wells a 
month’s warning, and Mary accepted it doggedly, and 
thought herself very cruelly used. 

After this, mistress and maid did not exchange an 
unnecessary word for many days. 

This notice to leave was very bitter to Mary Wells, 
for she was in the very act of making a conquest. 
Young Drake, a very small farmer, and tenant of Sir 
Charles, had fallen in love with her, and she liked him, 
and had resolved he should marry her; with which view 
she was playing the tender but coy maiden very prettily. 
But Drake, though young and very much in love, was 
advised by his mother, and evidently resolved to go the 
old-fashioned way, keep company a year, and know the 
girl, before offering the ring. 

Just before her month was out, a more serious trouble 
threatened Mary Wells. 

Her low artful amour with Bichard Bassett had led to 
its natural results. By degrees she had gone farther 
than she intended, and now the fatal consequences 
looked her in the face. 

She found herself in an odious position; for her 
growing regard for young Drake, though not a violent 
attachment, was enough to set her more and more against 
Bichard Bassett; and she was preparing an entire separa- 
tion from the latter, when the fatal truth dawned on her. 

Then there was a temporary revulsion of feeling; she 
told her condition to Bassett, and implored him, with 
many tears, to aid her to disappear for a time and hide 
her misfortune, especially from her sister. 

Mr. Bassett heard her, and then gave her an answer 
that made her blood run cold. 


166 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Why do you come to me ? ” said he. “ Why don’t 
you go to the right man, young Drake ? ” 

He then told her he had had her watched, and she 
must not think to make a fool of him. She was as inti¬ 
mate with the young farmer as with him, and was in his 
company every day. 

Mary Wells admitted that Drake was courting her, but 
said he was a civil, respectful young man, who desired 
to make her his wife. “You have lost me that,” said 
she, bursting into tears; “ and so, for mercy’s sake, show 
yourself a man for once, and see me through my 
trouble.” 

The egotist disbelieved, or affected not to believe her, 
and said, “ When there are two, it is always the gentle¬ 
man you girls deceive. But you can’t make a fool of 
me, Mrs. Drake. Marry the farmer, and I’ll give you a 
wedding present; that is all I can do for any other 
man’s sweetheart. I have got my own family to pro¬ 
vide for, and it is all I can contrive to make both ends 
meet.” 

He was cold and inflexible to her prayers. Then she 
tried threats. He laughed at them. Said he, “The 
time is gone by for that. If you wanted to sue me for 
breach of promise, you should have done it at once; not 
waited eighteen months, and taken another sweetheart 
first. Come, come, you played your little game. You 
made me come here week after week and bleed a sover¬ 
eign. A woman that loved a man would never have 
been so hard on him as you were on me. I grinned, and 
bore it; but, when you ask me to own another man’s 
child, a man of your own sort, that you are in love with 
— you hate me — that is a little too much. Ho, Mrs. 
Drake; if that is your game we will fight it out — before 
the public if you like.” And having delivered this with 
a tone of harsh and loud defiance, he left her — left her 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 167 

forever. She sat down upon the cold ground and rocked 
herself. Despair was cold at her heart. 

She sat in that forlorn state for more than an hour. 
Then she got up, and went to her mistress’s room, and 
crouched by the fire, for her limbs were cold as well as 
her heart. 

She sat there, gazing at the fire and sighing heavily, 
till Lady Bassett came up to bed. She then went 
through her work like an automaton, and every now and 
then a deep sigh came from her breast. 

Lady Bassett heard her sigh, and looked at her. Her 
face was altered, a sort of sullen misery was written on 
it. Lady Bassett was quick at reading faces, and this 
look alarmed her. “Mary,” said she, kindly, “is there 
anything the matter ? ” 

No reply. 

“ Are you unwell ? ” 

“No.” 

“ Are you in trouble ? ” 

“ Ay! ” with a burst of tears. 

Lady Bassett let her cry, thinking it would relieve 
her, and then spoke to her again with the languid pen¬ 
siveness of a woman who has also her trouble. “You 
have been very attentive to Sir Charles, and a kind good 
servant to me, Mary.” 

“ You are mocking me, my lady,” said Mary bitterly. 
“ You wouldn’t have turned me off for a word, if I had 
been a good servant.” 

Lady Bassett colored high, and was silenced for a 
moment. At last she said, “ I feel it must seem harsh 
to you. You don’t know how wicked it was to tempt 
me. But it is not as if you had done anything wrong. 
I do not feel bound to mention mere words; I shall give 
you an excellent character, Mary: indeed, I have. I 
think I have got a good place for you. I shall know 


163 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


to-morrow; and, when it is settled, we will look over my 
wardrobe together.” 

This proposal implied a boxful of presents, and would 
have made Mary’s dark eyes flash with delight at an¬ 
other time; but she was past all that now. She inter¬ 
rupted Lady Bassett with this strange speech: “ You 
are very kind, my lady; will you lend me the key of 
your medicine-chest ? ” 

Lady Bassett looked surprised, but said, “ Certainly, 
Mary,” and held out the keys. 

But, before Mary could take them, she considered a 
moment, and asked her what medicine she required. 

“ Only a little laudanum.” 

“No, Mary; not whilst you look like that, and refuse 
to tell me your trouble. I am your mistress, and must 
exert my authority for your good. Tell me at once 
what is the matter.” 

“ I’d bite my tongue off sooner.” 

“You are wrong, Mary. I am sure I should be your 
best friend. I feel much indebted to you for the atten¬ 
tion and the affection you have shown me, and I am 
grieved to see you so despondent. Make a friend of me. 
There — think it over, and talk to me again to-morrow.” 

Mary Wells took the true servant’s view of Lady Bas¬ 
sett’s kindness. She looked at it as a trap; not, indeed, 
set with malice prepense, but still a trap. She saw that 
Lady Bassett meant kindly at present; but, for all that, 
she was sure, that, if she told the truth, her mistress 
would turn against her, and say, “ Oh! I had no idea 
your trouble arose out of your own imprudence. I can 
do nothing for a vicious girl.” 

She resolved therefore to say nothing, or else to tell 
some lie or other quite wide of the mark. 

Deplorable as this young woman’s situation was, the 
duplicity and coarseness of mind which had brought her 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


169 


into it, would have somewhat blunted the mental agony- 
such a situation must inflict: but it was aggravated by a 
special terror; she knew that if she was found out she 
would lose the only sure friend she had in the world. 

The fact is, Mary Wells had seen a good deal of life 
during the two years she was out of the reader’s sight. 
Rhoda had been very good to her; had set her up in a 
lodging-house, at her earnest request. She misconducted 
it, and failed; threw it up in disgust, and begged Rhoda 
to put her in the public line. Rhoda complied. Mary 
made a mess of the public-house. Then Rhoda showed 
her she was not fit to govern anything, and drove her 
into service again; and, in that condition, having no 
more cares than a child, and plenty of work to do, and 
many a present from Rhoda} she had been happy. 

But Rhoda, though she forgave blunders, incapacity 
for business, and waste of money, had always told her 
plainly there was one thing she never would forgive. 

Rhoda Marsh had become a good Christian in every 
respect but one. The male rake reformed is rather toler¬ 
ant ; but the female rake reformed is, as a rule, bitterly 
intolerant of female frailty; and Rhoda carried this 
female characteristic to an extreme, both in word and 
in deed. They were only half sisters, after all; and 
Mary knew that she would be cast off forever if she 
deviated from virtue so far as to be found out. 

Besides the general warning, there had been a special 
one. When she read Mary’s first letter from Hunter- 
combe Hall, Rhoda was rather taken aback at first; but, 
on reflection, she wrote to Mary, saying she could stay 
there on two conditions; she must be discreet, and never 
mention her sister Rhoda in the house, and she must 
not be tempted to renew her acquaintance with Richard 
Bassett. “ Mind,” said she, “ if ever you speak to that 
villain, I shall hear of it, and I shall never notice you 
again.” 


170 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


This was the galling present and the dark future 
which had made so young and unsentimental a woman 
as Mary Wells think of suicide for a moment or two; 
and it now deprived her of her rest, and next day kept 
her thinking and brooding all the time her now leaden 
limbs were carrying her through her menial duties. 

The afternoon was sunny, and Sir Charles and Lady 
Bassett took their usual walk. 

Mary Wells went a little way with them, looking very 
miserable. Lady Bassett observed, and said kindly, 
“Mary, you can give me that shawl, I will not keep 
you; go where you like till live o’clock.” 

Mary never said so much as “ Thank you.” She put 
the shawl round her mistress, and then went slowly back. 
She sat down on the stone steps, and glared stupidly at 
the scene, and felt very miserable and leaden. She 
seemed to be stuck in a sort of slough of despond, and 
could not move in any direction to get out of it. 

While she sat in this sombre reverie, a gentleman 
walked up to the door, and Mary Wells lifted her head 
and looked at him. Notwithstanding her misery, her 
eyes rested on him with some admiration, for he was a 
model of a man: six feet high, and built like an athlete. 
His face was oval, and his skin dark, but glowing; his 
hair, eyebrows, and long eyelashes black as jet; his gray 
eyes large and tender. He was dressed in black, with a 
white tie, and his clothes were well cut, and seemed 
superlatively so, owing to the importance and symmetry 
of the figure they covered. It was the new rector, Mr. 
Angelo. 

He smiled on Mary graciously, and asked her how Sir 
Charles was. 

She said he was better. 

Then Mr. Angelo asked, more timidly, was Lady Bas¬ 
sett at home ? 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


171 


u She is just gone out, sir.” 

A look of deep disappointment crossed Mr. Angelo’s 
face. It did not escape Mary Wells. She looked at him 
full, and, lowering her voice a little, said, “ She is only 
in the grounds with Sir Charles. She will be at home 
about five o’clock.” 

Mr. Angelo hesitated, and then said he would call 
again at five. He evidently preferred a duet to a trio. 
He then thanked Mary Wells with more warmth than 
the occasion seemed to call for, and retired very slowly : 
he had come very quickly. 

Mary Wells looked after him, and asked herself wildly, 
if she could not make some use of him and his manifest 
infatuation. 

But, before her mind could fix on any idea, and indeed 
before the young clergyman had taken twenty steps 
homewards, loud voices were heard down the shrubbery. 

These were followed by an agonized scream. 

Mary Wells started up, and the young parson turned; 
they looked at each other in amazement. 

Then came wild and piercing cries for help — in a 
woman’s voice. 

The young clergyman cried out , u Her voice ! her voice! ” 
and dashed into the shrubbery with a speed Mary Wells 
had never seen equalled. He had won the two hundred- 
yards race at Oxford in his day. 

The agonized screams were repeated, and Mary Wells 
screamed in response as she ran towards the place. 


172 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

Sir Charles Bassett was in high spirits this after¬ 
noon, indeed a little too high. 

“Bella, my love,” said he, “now I’ll tell you why I 
made you give me your signature this morning. The 
money has all come in for the wood, and this very day I 
sent Oldfield instructions to open an account for you 
with some London banker.” 

Lady Bassett looked at him with tears of tenderness 
in her eyes. 

“Dearest,” said she, “I have plenty of money; but 
the love to which I owe this present, that is my treasure of 
treasures. Well, I accept it, Charles; but don’t ask me 
to spend it on myself; I should feel I was robbing you.” 

“It is nothing to me how you spend it; I have saved 
it from the enemy.” 

Now that very enemy heard these words. He had 
looked from “ The Heir’s Tower,” and seen Sir Charles 
and Lady Bassett walking on their side of the wall, and 
the nurse carrying his heir on the other side. 

He had come down to look at his child in the sun; 
but he walked softly, on the chance of overhearing Sir 
Charles and Lady Bassett say something or other about 
his health; his design went no farther than that — but 
the fate of listeners is proverbial. 

Lady Bassett endeavored to divert her husband from 
the topic he seemed to be approaching; it always excited 
him now, and did him harm. 

“Do not waste your thoughts on that enemy. He is 
powerless.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


173 


“At this moment, perhaps; but his turn is sure to 
come again, and I shall provide for it. I mean to live 
on half my income, and settle the other half on you. I 
shall act on the clause in the entail, and fell all the 
timber on the estate, except about the home-park and 
my best covers. It will take me some years to do this 
— I must not glut the market and spoil your profits; 
but every year I’ll have a fall, till I have denuded Mr. 
Bassett’s inheritance, as he calls it, and swelled your 
banker’s account to a plum. Bella, I have had a shake. 
Even now that I am better, such a pain goes through my 
head, like a bullet crushing through it, whenever I get 
excited. I don’t think I shall be a long-lived man. But, 
never mind, I’ll live as long as I can; and while I do 
live, I’ll work for you, and against that villain.” 

“Charles!” cried Lady Bassett, “I implore you to turn 
your thoughts away from that man, and to give up these 
idle schemes. Were you to die, I should soon follow 
you; so pray do not shorten your life by these angry 
passions, or you will shorten mine.” 

This appeal acted powerfully on Sir Charles, and he 
left off suddenly with flushed cheeks, and tried to com¬ 
pose himself. 

But his words had now raised a corresponding fury on 
the other side of that boundary wall. Bichard Bassett, 
stung with rage, and, unlike his high-bred cousin, accus¬ 
tomed to mix cunning even with his fury, gave him a 
terrible blow, a very coup de Jarnac. He spoke at him; 
he ran forward to the nurse, and said very loud, — 

“Let me see the little darling; he does you credit; 
what fat cheeks! what arms! an infant Hercules! There, 
take him up the mound. Now lift him in your arms, 
and let him see his inheritance. Higher, nurse, higher! 
Ay, crow away, youngster; all that is yours—house, and 
land, and all. They may steal the trees, they can’t make 


174 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


away with the broad acres. Ha! I believe he understands 
every word, nurse. See how he smiles and crows ! ” 

At the sound of Bassett’s voice Sir Charles started, 
and at the first taunt he uttered something between a 
moan and a roar, as of a wounded lion. 

“Come away,” cried Lady Bassett. “He is doing it 
on purpose.” 

But the stabs came too fast. Sir Charles shook her 
off, and looked wildly round for a weapon to strike his 
insulter with. 

“ Curse him and his brat! ” he cried. “ They shall 
neither of them — I’ll kill them both.” 

He sprang fiercely at the wall, and, notwithstanding 
his weakly condition, raised himself above it, and glared 
over with a face so full of fury that Bichard Bassett 
recoiled in dismay for a moment, and said, “ Bun ! run! 
He’ll hurt the child.” 

But, the next moment, Sir Charles’s hands lost their 
power; he uttered a miserable moan, and fell gasping 
under the wall in an epileptic fit, with all the terrible 
symptoms I have described in a previous portion of this 
story. These were new to his poor wife, and, as she 
strove in vain to control his fearful convulsions, her 
shrieks rent the air. Indeed, her screams were so appall¬ 
ing, that Bassett himself sprang at the wall, and, by a 
great effort of strength, drew himself up, and peered 
down with white face at the glaring eyes, clenched teeth, 
purple face, and foaming lips of his enemy, and his body 
that bounded convulsively on the ground with incredible 
violence. 

At that moment humanity prevailed over everything, 
and he flung himself over the wall, and in his haste got 
rather a heavy fall himself. 

“ It is a fit,” he cried, and, running to the brook close 
by, filled his hat with water, and was about to dash it 
over Sir Charles’s face. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


175 


But Lady Bassett repelled him with horror. 

“ Don’t touch him, you villain! You have killed him.” 
And then she shrieked again. 

At this moment Mr. Angelo dashed up, and saw at a 
glance what it was, for he had studied medicine a little. 
He said, “ It is epilepsy. Leave him to me.” He man¬ 
aged, by his great strength, to keep the patient’s head 
down till the face got pale and the limbs still; then, tell¬ 
ing Lady Bassett not to alarm herself too much, he lifted 
Sir Charles, and actually proceeded to carry him towards 
the house. Lady Bassett, weeping, proffered her assist¬ 
ance, and so did Mary Wells; but this athlete said a little 
brusquely, “No, no; I have practised this sort of thing.” 
And, partly by his rare strength, partly by his familiarity 
with all athletic feats, he carried the insensible baronet 
to his own house, as I have seen my accomplished friend, 
Mr. Henry Neville, carry a tall actress on the mimic 
stage; only, the distance being much longer, the perspi¬ 
ration rolled down Mr. Angelo’s face with so sustained 
an effort. 

He laid him gently on the floor of his study, while 
Lady Bassett sent two grooms galloping for medical 
advice, and half a dozen servants running for this and 
that stimulant, as one thing after another occurred to 
her agitated mind. The very rustling of dresses and 
scurry of feet overhead told all the house a great calamity 
had stricken it. 

Lady Bassett hung over the sufferer, sighing piteously, 
and was for supporting his beloved head with her tender 
arm; but Mr. Angelo told her it was better to keep the 
head low, that the blood might flow back to the vessels 
of the brain. 

She cast a look of melting gratitude on her adviser, 
and composed herself to apply stimulants under his 
direction and advice. 


176 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Tims judiciously treated, Sir Charles began to recover 
consciousness in part. He stared and muttered inco¬ 
herently. Lady Bassett thanked God on her knees, and 
then turned to Mr. Angelo with streaming eyes, and 
stretched out both hands to him, with an indescribable 
eloquence of gratitude. He gave her his hands timidly, 
and she pressed them both with all her soul. Uncon¬ 
sciously she sent a rapturous thrill through the young 
man’s body; he blushed, and then turned pale, and felt 
for a moment almost faint with rapture at that sweet 
and unexpected pressure of her soft hands. 

But at this moment Sir Charles broke out in a sort of 
dry business-like voice, “I’ll kill the viper and his brood.” 
Then he stared at Mr. Angelo, and could not make him 
out at first. “ Ah! ” said he complacently, “ this is my 
private tutor; a man of learning. I read Homer with 
him; but I have forgotten it, all but one line, — 

‘yjjmoj os naxiqa xt elrwv naldag nuTaXelnei* 

That’s a beautiful verse. Homer, old boy, I’ll take your 
advice: I’ll kill the heir-at-law, and his brat as well, and, 
when they are dead and well-seasoned, I’ll sell them to 
that old timber-merchant, the devil, to make hell hotter. 
Order my horse, somebody, this minute.” 

During this tirade, Lady Bassett’s hands kept clutch¬ 
ing, as if to stop it, and her eyes filled with horror. 

Mr. Angelo came again to her rescue. He affected to 
take it all as a matter of course, and told the servants 
they need not wait, Sir Charles was coming to himself 
by degrees, and the danger was all over. 

But, when the servants were gone, he said to Lady 
Bassett, seriously, “ I would not let any servant be about 
Sir Charles, except this one. She is evidently attached 
to you. Suppose we take him to his own room.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 177 

He then made Mary Wells a signal, and they carried 
him up-stairs. 

Sir Charles talked all the while with pitiable vehe¬ 
mence; indeed it was a continuous babble, like a 
brook. 

Mary Wells was taking him into his own room, but 
Lady Bassett said, “No: into my room. Oh, I will 
never let him out of my sight again.” 

Then they carried him into Lady Bassett’s bedroom, 
and laid him gently down on a couch there. 

He looked round, observed the locality, and uttered a 
little sigh of complacency. He left off talking for the 
present, and seemed to doze. 

The place, which exerted this soothing influence on 
Sir Charles, had a contrary and strange effect on Mr. 
Angelo. 

It was of palatial size, and lighted by two side windows 
and an oriel window at the end; the delicate stone shafts 
and mullions were such as are oftener seen in cathedrals 
than in mansions: the deep embrasure was filled with 
beautiful flowers and luscious exotic leaf-plants from the 
hothouses. The floor was of polished oak, and some feet 
of this were left bare on all sides of the great Aubusson 
carpet made expressly for the room. By this means 
cleanliness penetrated into every corner; the oak was 
not only cleaned, but polished like a mirror. The cur¬ 
tains were French chintzes, of substance, and exquisite 
patterns, and very voluminous; on the walls was a deli¬ 
cate rose-tinted satin paper, to which French art, unrivalled 
in these matters, had given the appearance of being stuffed, 
padded, and divided into a thousand cosy pillows by gold¬ 
headed nails. 

The wardrobes were of satin-wood. The bedsteads — 
one small, one large — were plain white, and gold in 
moderation. 

12 


178 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


All this, however, was but the frame to the delightful 
picture of a wealthy young lady’s nest. 

The things that startled and thrilled Mr. Angelo were 
those his imagination could see the fair mistress using. 
The exquisite toilet-table, the Dresden mirror with its 
delicate china frame muslined and ribboned, the great 
ivory-handled brushes, the array of cut-glass gold-mounted 
bottles, and all the artillery of beauty; the baths of 
various shapes and sizes; the bath sheets, and the 
profusion of linen, fine and coarse. The bed, with its 
frilled sheets, its huge frilled pillows, and its eider-down 
quilt covered with bright purple silk. 

A delicate perfume came through the wardrobes, where 
strata of fine linen from Hamburg and Belfast lay on 
scented herbs ; and this, permeating the room, seemed 
the very perfume of beauty itself, and intoxicated the 
brain. Imagination conjured pictures proper to the 
scene: a goddess at her toilet, her glorious hair inun¬ 
dating on the pillow, and burning in contrasted color 
with the snowy sheets and with the purple quilt. 

From this reverie he was awakened by a soft voice 
that said, “ How can I ever thank you enough, sir ? ” 

Mr. Angelo controlled himself, and said, “ By sending 
for me whenever I can be of the slightest use.” Then, 
comprehending his danger, he added hastily, “And I 
fear I am none whatever now.” Then he rose to go. 

Lady Bassett gave him both her hands again, and this 
time he kissed one of them all in a flurry; he could not 
resist the temptation. Then he hurried away, with his 
whole soul in a tumult. Lady Bassett blushed, and 
returned to her husband’s side. 

Dr. Willis came, heard the case, looked rather grave 
and puzzled, and wrote the inevitable prescription; for 
the established theory is that man is cured by drugs 
alone, 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


179 


Sir Charles wandered a little while the doctor was 
there, and continued to wander after he was gone. 

Then Mary Wells begged leave to sleep in the dress¬ 
ing-room. 

Lady Bassett thanked her, but said she thought it 
unnecessary; a good night’s rest, she hoped, would make 
a great change in the sufferer. 

Mary Wells thought otherwise, and quietly brought 
her little bed into the dressing-room, and laid it on the 
floor. 

Her judgment proved right; Sir Charles was no better 
next day, nor the day after. He brooded for hours at a 
time, and when he talked, there was an incoherence in 
his discourse ; above all, he seemed incapable of talking 
long on any subject without coming back to the fatal one 
of his childlessness; and, when he did return to this, 
it was sure to make him either deeply dejected, or else 
violent against Bichard Bassett and his son. He swore 
at them, and said they were waiting for his shoes. 

Lady Bassett’s anxiety deepened ; strange fears came 
over her. She put subtle questions to the doctor; he 
returned obscure answers, and went on prescribing 
medicines that had no effect. 

She looked wistfully into Mary Wells’s face, and there 
she saw her own thoughts reflected. 

“ Mary,” said she one day in a low voice, “ what do 
they say in the kitchen ? ” 

“ Some say one thing, some another. What can they 
say ? They never see him, and never shall, while I am 
here.” 

This reminded Lady Bassett that Mary’s time was up. 
The idea of a stranger taking her place, and seeing Sir 
Charles in his present condition, was horrible to her. 
“Oh, Mary,” said she, piteously, “surely you will not 
leave me just now,” 


180 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Do you wish me to stay, my lady ? ” 

“ Can you ask it ? How can I hope to find such devo¬ 
tion as yours, such fidelity, and, above all, such secrecy ? 
Ah, Mary, I am the most unhappy lady in all England 
this day.” 

Then she began to cry bitterly, and Mary Wells cried 
with her, and said she would stay as long as she could; 
but, said she, “ I gave you good advice, my lady, and so 
you will find.” 

Lady Bassett made no answer whatever, and that dis¬ 
appointed Mary, for she wanted a discussion. 

The days rolled on, and brought no change for the 
better. Sir Charles continued to brood on his one mis¬ 
fortune. He refused to go out of doors, even into the 
garden, giving as his reason that he was not fit to be 
seen. “ I don’t mind a couple of women,” said he 
gravely; “ but no man shall see Charles Bassett in his 
present state. Ho. Patience! Patience! Pll wait till 
Heaven takes pity on me. After all, it would be a shame 
that such a race as mine should die out, and these fine 
estates go to blackguards, and poachers, and anonymous 
letter-writers.” 

Lady Bassett used to coax him to walk in the corridor, 
but even then he ordered Mary Wells to keep watch, and 
let none of the servants come that way. From words he 
let fall, it seems he thought “ Childlessness ” was written 
on his face, and that it had somehow degraded his 
features. 

How a wealthy and popular baronet could not thus 
immure himself for any length of time without exciting 
curiosity, and setting all manner of rumors afloat. 
Visitors poured into Huntercombe to inquire. 

Lady Bassett excused herself to many, but some of 
her own sex she thought it best to encounter. This sub¬ 
jected her to insidious attacks of curiosity admirably 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


181 


veiled with sympathy. The assailants were marvellously 
subtle, but so was the devoted wife. She gave kiss for 
kiss, and equivoque for equivoque. She seemed grate¬ 
ful for each visit, but they got nothing out of her, except 
that Sir Charles’s nerves were shaken by his fall, and 
that she was playing the tyrant for once, and insisting 
on absolute quiet for her patient. 

One visitor she never refused : Mr. Angelo. He, from 
the first, had been her true friend; had carried Sir 
Charles away from the enemy, and then had dismissed 
the gaping servants. She saw that he had divined her 
calamity, and she knew, from things he said to her, that 
he would never breathe a word out of doors. She con¬ 
fided in him. She told him Mr. Bassett was the real 
cause of all this misery ; he had insulted Sir Charles ; 
the nature of this insult she suppressed. “ And, oh, Mr. 
Angelo,” said she, “ that man is my terror night and 
day. I don’t know what he can do; but I feel he will 
do something, if ever he learns my poor husband’s con¬ 
dition.” 

“I trust, Lady Bassett, you are convinced he will 
learn nothing from me. Indeed, I will tell the ruffian 
anything you like: he has been sounding me a little; 
called to inquire after his poor cousin — the hypocrite! ” 

“ How good you are ! Please tell him absolute repose 
is prescribed for a time; but there is no doubt of Sir 
Charles’s ultimate recovery.” 

Mr. Angelo promised heartily. 

Mary Wells was not enough: a woman must have a 
man to lean on, in trouble; and Lady Bassett leaned on 
Mr. Angelo. She even obeyed him. One day he told 
her that her own health would fail if she sat always in 
the sick-room; she must walk an hour every day. 

“ Must I ? ” said she sweetly. 

“ Yes, even if it is only in your own garden.” 


182 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


From that time she used to walk with him nearly 
every day. 

Richard Bassett saw this from his tower of observa¬ 
tion ; saw it, and chuckled. “ Aha ! ” said he. “ Hus¬ 
band sick in bed. Wife walking in the garden with a 
young man — a parson, too. He is dark, she is fair. 
Something will come of this. Ha, ha! ” 

Lady Bassett now talked of sending to London for 
advice; but Mary Wells dissuaded her. “ Physic can’t 
cure him: there’s only one can cure him, and that is 
yourself, my lady.” 

“ Ah, would to heaven I could! ” 

“ Try my way, and you will see, my lady.” 

“ What, that way ? Oh, no, no ! ” 

“ Well, then, if you won’t nobody else can.” 

Such speeches as these, often repeated, on the one 
hand, and Sir Charles’s melancholy on the other, drove 
Lady Bassett almost wild with distress and perplexity. 

Meanwhile her vague fears of Richard Bassett were 
being gradually realized. 

Bassett employed Wheeler to sound Dr. Willis as to 
his patient’s condition. 

Dr. Willis, true to the honorable traditions of his pro¬ 
fession, would tell him nothing. But Dr. Willis had a 
wife. She pumped him : and Wheeler pumped her. 

By this channel Wheeler got a somewhat exaggerated 
account of Sir Charles’s state. He carried it to Bassett, 
and the pair put their heads together. 

The consultation lasted all night, and finally a com¬ 
prehensive plan of action was settled. Wheeler stipu¬ 
lated that the law should not be broken in the smallest 
particular, but only stretched. 

Four days after this conference, Mr. Bassett, Mr. 
Wheeler, and two spruce gentlemen dressed in black, 
sat upon “The Heir’s Tower,” watching Huntercombe 
Hall. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


183 


They watched, and watched, until they saw Mr. Angelo 
make his usual daily call. 

Then they watched, and watched, until Lady Bassett 
and the young clergyman came out, and strolled together 
into the shrubbery. 

Then the two gentlemen went down the stairs, and 
were hastily conducted by Bassett to Huntercombe Hall. 

They rang the bell, and the taller said, in a business¬ 
like voice, “ Dr. Mosely, from Dr. Willis.” 

Mary Wells was sent for, and Dr. Mosely said, “ Dr. 
Willis is unable to come to-day, and has sent me.” 

Mary Wells conducted him to the patient. The other 
gentleman followed. 

“ Who is this ? ” said Mary. “ I can’t let all the 
world in to see him.” 

“ It is Mr. Donkyn, the surgeon. Dr. Willis wished 
the patient to be examined with the stethoscope. You 
can stay outside, Mr. Donkyn.” 

This new doctor announced himself to Sir Charles, 
felt his pulse, and entered at once into conversation with 
him. 

Sir Charles was in a talking mood, and very soon said 
one or two inconsecutive things. Dr. Mosely looked at 
Mary Wells, and said he would write a prescription. 

As soon as he had written it, he said, very loud, “ Mr. 
Donkyn ! ” 

The door instantly opened, and that worthy appeared 
on the threshold. 

“ Oblige me,” said the doctor to his confrere, “ by see¬ 
ing this prescription made up; and you can examine the 
patient yourself, but do not fatigue him.” 

With this he retired swiftly, and strolled down the 
corridor to wait for his companion. 

He had not to wait long. Mr. Donkyn adopted a free 
and easy style with Sir Charles, and that gentleman 


184 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


marked his sense of the indignity by turning him out 
of the room, and kicking him industriously half-way 
down the passage. 

Messrs. Mosely and Donkyn retired to Highmore. 

Bassett was particularly pleased at the baronet having 
kicked Donkyn; so was Wheeler; so was Dr. Mosely. 
Donkyn alone did not share the general enthusiasm. 

When Sir Charles had disposed of Mr. Donkyn, he 
turned on Mary Wells, and rated her soundly for bring¬ 
ing strangers into his room to gratify their curiosity; 
and, when Lady Bassett came in, he made his formal 
complaint, concluding with a proposal that one of two 
persons should leave Huntercombe forever that after¬ 
noon,— Mary Wells or Charles Bassett. 

Mary replied, not to him, but to her mistress, — 

“ He came from Dr. Willis, my lady: it was Dr. 
Mosely; and the other gent was a surgeon.” 

“Two medical men sent by Dr. Willis ?” said Lady 
Bassett, knitting her brow with wonder, and a shade of 
doubt. 

“ A couple of her own sweethearts sent by herself,” 
suggested Sir Charles. 

Lady Bassett sat down, and wrote a hasty letter to 
Dr. Willis. 

“ Send a groom with it as fast as he can ride,” said 
she; and she was much discomposed, and nervous, and 
impatient, till the answer came back. 

Dr. Willis came in person. 

“I sent no one to take my place,” said he ; “I esteem 
my patient too highly to let any stranger prescribe for 
him, or even see him for a few days to come.” 

Lady Bassett sank into a chair, and her eloquent face 
filled with an undefinable terror. 

Mary Wells, being on her defence, put in her word. 

“ I am sure he was a doctor, for he wrote a prescrip¬ 
tion, and here Tis.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


185 


Dr. Willis examined the prescription with no friendly 
eye. 

“ Acetate of morphia! The very worst thing that 
could be given him. This is the favorite of the special¬ 
ists. This fatal drug has eaten away a thousand brains 
for one it has ever benefited.” 

“ Ah !” said Lady Bassett. “ ‘ Specialists 9 ! what are 
they?” 

“ Medical men, who confine their practice to one 
disease.” 

“ Mad-doctors, he means,” said the patient very 
gravely. 

Lady Bassett turned very pale. 

“ Then those were mad-doctors.” 

“Never you mind, Bella,” said Sir Charles. “I kicked 
the fellow handsomely.” 

“ I am sorry to hear it, Sir Charles.” 

“ Why ? ” 

Dr. Willis looked at Lady Bassett as much as to say, 
“ I shall not give him my real reason; ” and then said, 
“ I think it very undesirable you should be excited and 
provoked until your health is thoroughly restored.” 

Dr. Willis wrote a prescription and retired. 

Lady Bassett sank into a chair, and trembled all over. 
Her divining fit was on her; she saw the hand of the 
enemy, and was filled with vague fears. 

Mary Wells tried to comfort her. 

“ I’ll take care no more strangers get in here,” said 
she. “ And, my lady, if you are afraid, why not have 
the keepers, and two or three more, to sleep in the 
house ? for, as for them footmen, they be too soft to 
fight.” 

“ I will,” said Lady Bassett; “ but I fear it will be no 
use, our enemy has so many resources unknown to me. 
How can a poor woman fight with a shadow that comes 


186 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


in a moment, and strikes, and then is gone, and leaves 
his victim trembling ? ” 

Then she slipped into the dressing-room, and became 
hysterical, out of her husband’s sight and hearing. 

Mary Wells nursed her, and, when she was better, 
whispered in her ear, — 

“ Lose no more time, then. Cure him. You know 
the way.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


187 


CHAPTER XVII. 

In the present condition of her mind these words pro¬ 
duced a strange effect on Lady Bassett. She quivered, 
and her eyes began to rove in that peculiar way I have 
already noticed; and then she started up, and walked 
wildly to and fro; and then she kneeled down and 
prayed; and then, alarmed, perplexed, exhausted, she 
went and leaned her head on her patient’s shoulder, and 
wept softly a long time. 

Some days passed, and no more strangers attempted to 
see Sir Charles. 

Lady Bassett was beginning to breathe again, when 
she was afflicted by an unwelcome discovery. 

Mary Wells fainted away so suddenly that, but for 
Lady Bassett’s quick eye and ready hand, she would 
have fallen heavily. 

Lady Bassett laid her head down, and loosened her 
stays, and discovered her condition. She said nothing 
till the young woman was well, and then she taxed her 
with it. 

Mary denied it plump ; but, seeing her mistress’s dis¬ 
gust at the falsehood, she owned it with many tears. 

Being asked how she could so far forget herself, she 
told Lady Bassett she had long been courted by a re¬ 
spectable young man; he had come to the village, bound 
on a three years’ voyage, to bid her good-by; and, what 
with love and grief at parting, they had been betrayed 
into folly; and now he was on the salt seas, little dream¬ 
ing in what condition he had left her; “ and,” said she, 
“ before ever he can write to me, and I to him, I shall 


188 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


be a ruined girl; that is why I wanted to put an end to 
myself; I will, too, unless I can find some way to hide 
it from the world.” 

Lady Bassett begged her to give up those desperate 
thoughts; she would think what could be done for her. 
Lady Bassett could say no more to her just then, for she 
was disgusted with her. 

But, when she came to reflect that after all this was 
not a lady, and that she appeared by her own account to 
be the victim of affection and frailty rather than of 
vice, she made some excuses; and then the girl had laid 
aside her trouble, her despair, and given her sorrowful 
mind to nursing and comforting Sir Charles. This 
would have outweighed a crime, and it made the wife’s 
bowels yearn over the unfortunate girl. “ Mary,” said 
she, “ others must judge you; I am a wife, and can only 
see your fidelity to my poor husband. I don’t know 
what I shall do without you, but I think it is my duty 
to send you to him if possible. You are sure he really 
loves you ? ” 

“ Me cross the seas after a young man ? ” said Mary 
Wells. “I’d as lief hang myself on the nighest tree, 
and make an end. No, my lady, if you are really my 
friend, let me stay here as long as I can — I will never 
go down-stairs to be seen — and then give me money 
enough to get my trouble over unbeknown to my sister; 
she is all my fear. She is married to a gentleman, and 
got plenty of money, and I shall never want while she 
lives, and behave myself; but she would never forgive 
me if she knew. She is a hard woman: she is not like 
you, my lady. I’d liefer cut my hand off than I’d trust 
her as I would you.” 

Lady Bassett was not quite insensible to this compli¬ 
ment, but she felt uneasy. “ What! help you to deceive 
your sister ? ” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


189 


“ For her good. Why, if any one was to go and tell 
her about me now, she’d hate them for telling her almost 
as much as she would hate me.” 

Lady Bassett was sore perplexed. Unable to see quite 
clear in the matter, she naturally reverted to her husband 
and his interest. That dictated her course. She said, 
“ Well, stay with us, Mary, as long as you can, and then 
money shall not be wanting to hide your shame from all 
the world; but I hope, when the time comes, you will 
alter your mind, and tell your sister. May I ask what 
her name is ? ” 

Mary, after a moment’s hesitation, said her name was 
Marsh. 

“ I know a Mrs. Marsh,” said Lady Bassett; “ but of 
course that is not your sister. My Mrs. Marsh is rather 
fair.” 

“ So is my sister, for that matter.” 

“ And tall ? ” 

“ Yes, but you never saw her. You’d never forget her 
if you had. She has got eyes like a lion.” 

“ Ah ! Does she ride ? ” 

“ Oh, she is famous for that; and driving, and all.” 

“ Indeed! But no; I see no resemblance.” 

“ Oh, she is only my half-sister.” 

“ This is very strange.” 

Lady Bassett put her hand to her brow, and thought. 

“Mary,” said she, “all this is very mysterious. We 
are wading in deep waters.” 

Mary Wells had no idea what she meant. 

The day was not over yet. Just before dinner-time a 
fly from the station drove to the door, and Mr. Oldfield 
got out. 

He was detained in the hall by the sentinel Moss. 

Lady Bassett came down to him. At the very sight 
of him she trembled, and said, “ Bichard Bassett ? ” 


190 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Yes,” said Mr. Oldfield, “ he is in the field again. He 
has been to the Court of Chancery ex parte, and obtained 
an injunction ad interim to stay waste. Not another 
tree must be cut down on this estate for the present.” 

u Thank Heaven it is no worse than that. Not another 
tree shall be felled on the grounds.” 

“ Of course not. But they will not stop there. If 
we do not move to dissolve the injunction, I fear they 
will go on, and ask the court to administer the estate, 
with a view to all interests concerned, especially those 
of the heir-at-law and his son.” 

“ What, while my husband lives ? ” 

“ If they can prove him dead in law.” 

“ I don’t understand you, Mr. Oldfield.” 

“ They have got affidavits of two medical men that he 
is insane.” 

Lady Bassett uttered a faint scream, and put her hand 
to her heart. 

“ And, of course, they will use that extraordinary fall 
of timber as a further proof, and also as a reason why 
the court should interfere to protect the heir-at-law. 
Their case is well got up, and very strong,” said Mr. 
Oldfield regretfully. 

“ Well, but you are a lawyer; and you have always 
beaten them hitherto.” 

“ I had law and fact on my side. It is not so now. 
To be frank, Lady Bassett, I don’t see what I can do, 
but watch the case, on the chance of some error or ille¬ 
gality. It is very hard to fight a case when you cannot 
put your client forward — and I suppose that would not 
be safe. How unfortunate that you have no children! ” 

“ Children ! How could they help us ? ” 

“ What a question ! How could Bicliard Bassett move 
the court, if he was not the heir-at-law ? ” 

After a long conference, Mr. Oldfield returned to town, 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


191 


to see what he could do in the way of procrastination, 
and Lady Bassett promised to leave no stone unturned 
to cure Sir Charles in the meantime. Mr. Oldfield was 
to write immediately if any fresh step was taken. 

When Mr. Oldfield was gone, Lady 'Bassett pondered 
every word he had said, and, mild as she was, her rage 
began to rise against her husband’s relentless enemy; 
her wits worked, her eyes roved in that peculiar half¬ 
savage way I have described. She became intolerably 
restless ; and any one acquainted with her sex might see 
that some strange conflict was going on in her troubled 
mind. 

Every now and then she would come and cling to her 
husband, and cry over him; and that seemed to still the 
tumult of her soul a little. 

She never slept all that night: and, next day, clinging 
in her helpless agony to the nearest branch, she told 
Mary Wells what Bassett was doing, and said, “ What 
shall I do ? he is not mad; but he is in so very precari¬ 
ous a state that, if they get at him to torment him, they 
will drive him mad indeed.” 

“My lady,” said Mary Wells, “I can’t go from my 
word. ’Tis no use making two bites of a cherry; we 
must cure him: and, if we don’t, you’ll never rue it but 
once, and that will be all your life.” 

“ I should look on myself with horror afterwards, were 
I to deceive him now.” 

“No, my lady, you are too fond of him for that. 
Once you saw him happy, you’d be happy too, no matter 
how it came about. That Bichard Bassett will turn him 
out of this else. I am sure he will; he is a hard-hearted 
villain.” 

Lady Bassett’s eyes flashed fire : then her eyes roved: 
then she sighed deeply. 

Her powers of resistance were beginning to relax. 


192 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


As for Mary Wells, she gave her no peace; she kept 
instilling her mind into her mistress’s, with the perti¬ 
nacity of a small but ever-dripping fount; and we know 
both by science and poetry that small, incessant drops 
of water will wear a hole in marble. 

“ Gutta cavat lapidem non vi sed ssepe cadendo.” 

In the midst of all this a letter came from Mr. 
Oldfield, to tell her that Mr. Bassett threatened to take 
out a commission de lunatico, and she must prepare Sir 
Charles for an examination; for, if reported insane, the 
court would administer the estates ; but the heir-at-law, 
Mr. Bassett, would have the ear of the court, and the 
right of application, and become virtually master of 
Huntercombe and Bassett; and perhaps, considering the 
spirit by which he was animated, would contrive to 
occupy the very Hall itself. Lady Bassett was in the 
dressing-room when she received this blow, and it drove 
her almost frantic. She bemoaned her husband; she 
prayed God to take them both, and let their enemy have 
his will. She wept and raved, and at the height of her 
distress, came from the other room a feeble cry, “ Child¬ 
less, childless, childless! ” Lady Bassett heard that, 
and in one moment, from violent she became unnaturally 
and dangerously calm. She said firmly to Mary Wells, 
“ This is more than I can bear. You pretend you can 
save him — do it.” 

Mary Wells now trembled a little in her turn ; but she 
seized the opportunity. 

“ My lady, whatever I say, you’ll stand to ? ” 

“ Whatever you say, I’ll stand to.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


193 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Mary Wells, like other uneducated women, was not 
accustomed to think long and earnestly on any one sub¬ 
ject ; to use an expression she once applied with far less 
justice to her sister, her mind was like running water. 

But gestation affects the brains of such women, and 
makes them think more steadily, and sometimes very 
acutely; added to which, the peculiar dangers and diffi¬ 
culties that beset this girl during that anxious period 
stimulated her wits to the very utmost. Often she sat 
quite still for hours at a time, brooding and brooding, 
and asking herself how she could turn each new and 
unexpected event to her own benefit. Now, so much 
does mental force depend on that exercise of keen and 
long attention in which her sex is generally deficient, 
that this young woman’s powers were more than doubled 
since the day she first discovered her condition, and 
began to work her brains night and day for her defence. 

Gradually, as events I have related unfolded them¬ 
selves, she caught a glimpse of this idea, that if she 
could get her mistress to have a secret, her mistress 
would help her to keep her own. Hence her insidious 
whispers, and her constant praises of Mr. Angelo, who, 
she saw, was infatuated with Lady Bassett. Yet the 
designing creature was actually fond of her mistress; 
and so strangely compounded is a heart of this low 
kind, that the extraordinary step she now took was half 
affectionate impulse, half egotistical design. 

She made a motion with her hand, inviting Lady 
Bassett to listen, and stepped into Sir Charles’s room. 

13 


194 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Childless ! childless! childless ! ” 

“ Hush, sir,” said Mary Wells. “ Don’t say so. We 
shan’t be many months without one, please Heaven.” 

Sir Charles shook his head sadly. 

“ Don’t you believe me ? ” 

“No.” 

“ What, did ever I tell you a lie ? ” 

“No; but you are mistaken. She would have told 
me.” 

“Well, sir, my lady is young and shy, and I think 
she is afraid of disappointing you after all; for you 
know, sir, there’s many a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip. 
But ’tis as I tell you, sir.” 

Sir Charles was much agitated, and said he would give 
her a hundred guineas if that was true. “ Where is my 
darling wife ? Why do I hear this through a servant ? ” 

Mary Wells cast a look at the door, and said, for Lady 
Bassett to hear, “ She is receiving company. Now, sir, 
I have told you good news: will you do something to 
oblige me ? You shouldn’t speak of it direct to my 
lady just yet; and if you want all to go well, you 
mustn’t vex my lady, as you are doing now. What I 
mean, you mustn’t be so down-hearted—there’s no reason 
for’t — and you mustn’t coop yourself up on this floor: 
it sets the folks talking, and worries my lady. You 
should give her every chance, being the way she is.” 

Sir Charles said eagerly he would not vex her for the 
world. “ I’ll walk in the garden,” said he; “ but, as 
for going abroad, you know I’m not in a fit condition 
yet; my mind is clouded.” 

“Not as I see.” 

“ Oh, not always. But sometimes a cloud seems to get 
into my head; and if I was in public, I might do or say 
something discreditable. I would rather die.” 

“La, sir!” said Mary Wells, in a broad hearty way, 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


195 


“ a cloud in your head! You had a bad fall, and a fit at 
top on’t, and no wonder your poor head do ache at times. 
You’ll outgrow that — if you take the air, and give over 
fretting about the t’other thing. I tell you you’ll hear 
the music of a child’s voice, and little feet a-pattering up 
and down this here corridor, before so very long — if so 
be you take my advice, and leave off fretting my lady 
with fretting of yourself. You should consider, she is 
too fond of you to be well when you be ill.” 

“ I’ll get well, for her sake,” said Sir Charles firmly. 

At this moment there was a knock at the door. Mary 
Wells opened it so that the servant could see nothing. 

“Mr. Angelo has called.” 

“ My lady will be down directly.” 

Mary Wells then slipped into the dressing-room, and 
found Lady Bassett looking pale and wild. She had 
heard every word. 

“ There, he is better already,” said Mary Wells. “ He 
shall walk in the garden with you this afternoon.” 

“ What have you done ? I can’t look him in the face 
now. Suppose he speaks to me ? ” 

“He will not. I’ll manage that. You won’t have to 
say a word. Only listen to what / say, and don’t make 
a liar of me. He is better already.” 

“ How will this end ? ” cried Lady Bassett helplessly. 
“What shall I do?” 

“You must go down-stairs, and not come here for an 
hour at least, or you’ll spoil my work. Mr. Angelo is in 
the drawing-room.” 

“ I will go to him.” 

Lady Bassett slipped out by the other door, and as her 
visitor soon left her, she spent the rest of the hour 
walking wildly about the garden, and asking herself 
whether she had the courage to go on or the courage to 
go back. 


196 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Meantime Mary Wells had a long conversation with 
her master; and after that she retired into the adjoining 
room, and sat down to sew baby-linen clandestinely. 

After a considerable time, Lady Bassett came in, and, 
sinking into a chair, covered her face with her hands. 
She had her bonnet on. 

Mary Wells looked at her with black eyes that flashed 
triumph. 

After so surveying her for some time, she said, “ I have 
been at him again, and there’s a change for the better al¬ 
ready. He is not the same man. You go and see else.” 

Lady Bassett now obeyed her servant; she rose, and 
crept like a culprit into Sir Charles’s room. She found 
him clean-shaved, dressed to perfection, and looking more 
•cheerful than she had seen him for many a long day. 
“ Ah, Bella,” said he, “you have your bonnet on ; let us 
have a walk in the garden.” 

Lady Bassett opened her eyes, and consented eagerly, 
though she was very tired. 

They walked together; and Sir Charles, being a man 
that never broke his word, put no direct question to 
Lady Bassett, but spoke cheerfully of the future, and 
told her she was his hope and his all; she would baffle 
his enemy, and cheer his desolate hearth. 

She blushed, and looked confused and distressed; 
then he smiled, and talked of indifferent matters, until 
a pain in his head stopped him; then he became con¬ 
fused, and, putting his hand piteously to his head, pro¬ 
posed to retire at once to his own room. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


197 


Lady Bassett brought him in; and he reposed in 
silence on the sofa. 

The next day, and indeed many days afterwards, pre¬ 
sented similar features. 

Mary Wells talked to her master of the bright days to 
come, of the joy that would fill the house, if all went 
well, and of the defeat in store for Bichard Bassett. 
She spoke of this man with strange virulence, said “ she 
would think no more of sticking a knife into him than 
of eating her dinner; ” and in saying this, she showed 
the white of her eye in a manner truly savage and 
vindictive. 

To hate the same person is a surer bond than to love 
the same person; and this sentiment of Mary Wells, 
coupled with her uniform kindness to himself, gave her 
great influence with Sir Charles in his present weakened 
condition. Moreover, the young woman had an oily 
persuasive tongue ; and she who persuades us is stronger 
than he who convinces us. 

Thus influenced, Sir Charles walked every day in 
the garden with his wife, and forbore all direct allusion 
to her condition, though his conversation was redolent of 
it. He was still subject to sudden collapses of the 
intellect; but he became conscious when they were com¬ 
ing on; and, at the first warning, he would insist on 
burying himself in his room. 

After some days he consented to take short drives with 
Lady Bassett in the open carriage. This made her very 
joyful. Sir Charles refused to enter a single house, so 
high was his pride, and so great his terror lest he should 
expose himself; but it was a great point gained that she 
could take him about the county and show him in the 
character of a mere invalid. 

Everything now looked like a cure, slow, perhaps, but 
progressive; and Lady Bassett had her joyful hours, yet 


198 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


not without a bitter alloy; her divining mind asked 
itself what she should say and do, when Sir Charles 
should be quite recovered. This thought tormented her, 
and sometimes so goaded her that she hated Mary Wells 
for her well-meant interference, and by a natural recoil 
from the familiarity circumstances had forced on her, 
treated that young woman with great coldness and 
hauteur. 

The artful girl met this with extreme meekness and 
servility; the only reply she ever hazarded was an 
adroit one; she would take this opportunity to say, 
“ How much better master do get, ever since I took in 
hand to cure him! ” 

This oblique retort seldom failed. Lady Bassett would 
look at her husband, and her face would clear; and she 
would generally end by giving Mary a collar, or a scarf, 
or something. 

Thus did circumstances enable the lower nature to 
play with the higher. Lady Bassett’s struggles were 
like those of a bird in a silken net; they led to nothing: 
when it came to the point, she could neither do nor say 
anything to retard his cure. Any day the Court of 
Chancery, set in motion by Bichard Bassett, might issue 
a commission de lunatico , and, if Sir Charles was not 
cured by that time, Bichard Bassett would virtually 
administer the estate — so Mr. Oldfield had told her — 
and that, she felt sure, would drive Sir Charles mad for 
life. 

So there was no help for it. She feared, she writhed, 
she hated herself; but Sir Charles got better daily, and 
so she let herself drift along. 

Mary Wells made it fatally easy to her; she was the 
agent; Lady Bassett was silent and passive. 

After all she had a hope of extrication. Sir Charles 
once cured, she would make him travel Europe with her. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


199 


Money would relieve her of Mary Wells, and distance 
cut all the other cords. 

And indeed a time came when she looked back on her 
present situation with wonder at the distress it had 
caused her. “ I was in shallow water then/’ said she — 
“ but now ! ” 


200 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER XX. 

Sir Charles observed that he was never trusted alone. 
He remarked this, and inquired, with a peculiar eye, 
why that was. 

Lady Bassett had the tact to put on an innocent look, 
and smile, and say, “ That is true, dearest; I have tied 
you to my apron-string without mercy. But it serves 
you right for having fits, and frightening me. You get 
well, and my tyranny will cease at once.” 

However, after this, she often left him alone in the 
garden, to remove from his mind the notion that he was 
under restraint from her. 

Mr. Bassett observed this proceeding from his tower. 

One day Mr. Angelo called, and Lady Bassett left Sir 
Charles in the garden to go and speak to him. 

She had not been gone many minutes, when a boy ran 
to Sir Charles, and said, — 

“ Oh, sir, please come to the gate; the lady has had a 
fall and hurt herself.” 

Sir Charles, much alarmed, followed the boy, who took 
him to a side gate opening on the high road. Sir Charles 
rushed through this, and was passing between two stout 
fellows that stood one on each side the gate, when they 
seized him, and lifted him in a moment into a close 
carriage that was waiting on the spot. He struggled, 
and cried loudly for assistance; but they bundled him 
in and sprang in after him : a third man closed the door 
and got up by the side of the coachman. He drove off, 
avoiding the village, soon got upon a broad road, and 
bowled along at a great rate, the carriage being light, and 
drawn by two powerful horses. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


201 


So cleverly and rapidly was it done, that, but for a 
woman’s quick ear, the deed might not have been dis¬ 
covered for hours. But Mary Wells heard the cry for 
help through an open window, recognized Sir Charles’s 
voice, and ran screaming down-stairs to Lady Bassett; 
she ran wildly out, with Mr. Angelo, to look for Sir 
Charles. He was nowhere to be found. Then she 
ordered every horse in the stables to be saddled; and 
she ran with Mary to the place where the cry had been 
heard. 

For some time no intelligence whatever could be 
gleaned; but at last an old man was found, who said he 
had heard somebody cry out, and soon after that a 
carriage had come tearing by him, and gone round the 
corner; but this direction was of little value, on account of 
the many roads, any one of which it might have taken. 

However, it left no doubt that Sir Charles had been 
taken away from the place by force. 

Terror-stricken and pale as death, Lady Bassett never 
lost her head for a moment. Indeed, she showed unex¬ 
pected fire. She sent off coachman and grooms to scour 
the country, and rouse the gentry to help her. She gave 
them money, and told them not to come back till they 
had found Sir Charles. 

Mr. Angelo said eagerly, “ I’ll go to the nearest magis¬ 
trate, and we will arrest Bichard Bassett on suspicion.” 

“God bless you, dear friend 1” sobbed Lady Bassett. 
“ Oh, yes, it is his doing — murderer ! ” 

Off went Mr. Angelo on his errand. 

He was hardly gone, when a man was seen running 
and shouting across the fields. Lady Bassett went to 
meet him, surrounded by her humble sympathizers. It 
was young Drake. He came up, panting, with a double- 
barrelled gun in his hand — for he was allowed to shoot 
rabbits on his own little farm — and stammered out, — 


202 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Oh, my lady ! — Sir Charles — they have carried him 
off, against his will.” 

“ Who ? Where ? Did you see him ? ” 

“ Ay, and heerd him and all. I was ferreting rabbits 
by the side of the turnpike road yonder, and a carriage 
came tearing along, and Sir Charles put out his head, 
and cried to me, ‘ Drake, they are kidnapping me. 
Shoot!’ But they pulled him back out of sight.” 

“ 0 my poor husband ! And did you let them ? Oh ! ” 

“ Couldn’t catch ’em, my lady ; so I did as I was bid : 
got to my gun as quick as ever I could, and gave the 
coachman both barrels, hot.” 

“ What, kill him ? ” 

“ Lord, no! ’twas sixty yards off ; but made him holler 
and squeak a good ’un. Put thirty or forty shots into 
his back, I know.” 

“Give me your hand, Mr. Drake. I’ll never forget 
that shot.” Then she began to cry. 

“Doan’t ye, my lady, doan’t ye,” said the honest 
fellow, and was within an ace of blubbering for sympathy. 
“We ain’t a lot o’ babies, to see our squire kidnapped. 
If you would lend Abel Moss there and me a couple o’ 
nags, we’ll catch them yet, my lady.” 

“That we will,” cried Abel. “You take me where 
you fired that shot, and we’ll follow the fresh wheel- 
tracks. They can’t beat us, while they keep to a road.” 

The two men were soon mounted and in pursuit, amidst 
the cheers of the now excited villagers. But still the 
perpetrators of the outrage had more than an hour’s 
start; and an hour was twelve miles. 

And now Lady Bassett, who had borne up so bravely, 
was seized with a deadly faintness, and supported into 
the house. 

All this spread like wildfire, and roused the villagers; 
and they must have a hand in it. Parson had said Mr. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


203 


Bassett was to blame; and that passed from one to 
another, and so fermented, that, in the evening, a crowd 
collected round Highmore House, and demanded Mr. 
Bassett. 

The servants were alarmed, and said he was not at 
home. 

Then the men demanded boisterously what he had 
done with Sir Charles, and threatened to break the win¬ 
dows, unless they were told ; and, as nobody in the house 
could tell them, the women egged on the men, and they 
did break the windows; but they no sooner saw their 
own work, than they were a little alarmed at it, and 
retired, talking very loud, to support their waning cour¬ 
age, and check their rising remorse at their deed. 

They left a house full of holes and screams, and poor 
little Mrs. Bassett half dead with fright. 

As for Lady Bassett, she spent a horrible night of 
terror, suspense, and agony. She could not lie down, 
nor even sit still. She walked incessantly, wringing 
her hands, and groaning for news. 

Mary Wells did all she could to comfort her; but it 
was a situation beyond the power of words to alleviate. 

Her intolerable suspense lasted till four o’clock in the 
morning ; and then, in the still night, horses’ feet came 
clattering up to the door. 

Lady Bassett went into the hall. It was dimly lighted 
by a single lamp. The great door was opened, and in 
clattered Moss and Drake, splashed and weary and down¬ 
cast. 

“ Well ? ” cried Lady Bassett, clasping her hands. 

“ My lady,” said Moss, “ we tracked the carriage into 
the next county to a place thirty miles from here, to a 
lodge, and there they stopped us. The place is well 
guarded with men and great big dogs. We heered ’em 
bark, didn’t us, Will? ” 


204 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“Ay,” said Drake dejectedly. 

“The man as kept the lodge was short, but civil. 
Says he, ‘ This is a place nobody comes into but by law, 
and nobody goes out on but by law. If the gentleman 
is here, you may go home and sleep; he is safe enough/ ” 
“ A prison ? No ! ” 

“A ’sylum, my lady.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


205 


CHAPTER XXI. 

The lady put her hand to her heart, and was silent a 
long time. 

At last she said doggedly, but faintly, “You will go 
with me to that place to-morrow, one of you.” 

“ I ? ll go, my lady,” said Moss. “ Will, here, had better 
not show his face. They might take the law on him, 
for firing of that there shot.” 

Drake hung his head, and his ardor was evidently 
cooled by discovering that Sir Charles had been taken to 
a madhouse. 

Lady Bassett saw, and sighed, and said she would 
take Moss to show her the way. 

At eleven o’clock next morning a light carriage and 
pair came round to the Hall gate, and a large basket, a 
portmanteau and a bag were placed on the roof, under 
care of Moss. Smaller packages were put inside; and 
Lady Bassett and her maid got in, both dressed in black. 

They reached Bellevue House at half-past two. The 
lodge gate was open, to Lady Bassett’s surprise, and 
they drove through some pleasant grounds to a large 
white house. 

The place, at first sight, had no distinctive character. 
Great ingenuity had been used to secure the inmates, 
without seeming to incarcerate them. There were no 
bars to the lower front windows, and the side windows, 
with their defences, were shrouded by shrubs. The 
sentinels were out of sight, or employed on some occu¬ 
pation or other, but within call. Some patients were 
playing at cricket j some ladies looking on; others stroll- 


20G 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


mg on the gravel, with a nurse dressed very much like 
themselves, who did not obtrude her functions unneces¬ 
sarily. All was apparent indifference, and Argus-eyed 
vigilance. So much for the surface. 

Of course, even at this moment, some of the locked 
rooms had violent and miserable inmates. 

The hall door opened as the carriage drew up. A 
respectable servant came forward. 

Lady Bassett handed him her card, and said, “ I am 
come to see my husband, sir.” 

The man never moved a muscle, but said, “ You must 
wait, if you please, till I take your card in.” 

He soon returned, and said, “ Dr. Suaby is not here; 
but the gentleman in charge will see you.” 

Lady Bassett got out, and, beckoning Mary Wells, 
followed the servant into a curious room, half library, 
half chemist’s shop; they called it “ the laboratory.” 

Here she found a tall man leaning on a dirty mantel¬ 
piece, who received her stiffly. He had a pale mustache, 
very thin lips, and altogether a severe manner; his head 
bald rather prematurely, and whiskers abundant. 

Lady Bassett looked him all over with one glance of 
her woman’s eye, and saw she had a hard and vain man 
to deal with. 

“ Are you the gentleman to whom this house belongs ? ” 
she faltered. 

“No, madam; I am in charge during Dr. Suaby’s 
absence.” 

“That comes to the same thing. Sir, I am come to 
see my dear husband.” 

“ Have you an order ? ” 

“ An order, sir ? I am his wife.” 

Mr. Salter shrugged his shoulders a little, and said, 
“ I have no authority to let any visitor see a patient 
without an order from the person by whose authority 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


207 


he is placed here, or else an order from the Commission¬ 
ers.” 

“ But that cannot apply to the wife; to her who is one 
with him, for better for worse, in sickness or health.” 

“ It seems hard; but I have no discretion in the mat¬ 
ter. The patient only came yesterday — much excited. 
He is better to-day, and an interview with you would ex¬ 
cite him again.” 

“ Oh, no ! no ! no ! I can always soothe him. I will 
be so mild, so gentle. You can be present, and hear 
every word I say. I will only kiss him, and tell him 
who has done this, and to be brave, for his wife watches 
over him; and, sir, I will beg him to be patient, and not 
blame you, nor any of the people here.” 

“Very proper, very proper; but really this interview 
must be postponed till you have an order, or Dr. Suaby 
returns. He can violate his own rules, if he likes; but 
I cannot, and, indeed, I dare not.” 

“Dare not let a lady see her husband? Then you 
are not a man. Oh, can this be England? It is too 
inhuman.” 

Then she began to cry and wring her hands. 

“This is very painful,” said Mr. Salter, and left the 
room. 

The respectable servant looked in soon after, and 
Lady Bassett told him, between her sobs, that she had 
brought some clothes and things for her husband. 
“ Surely, sir,” said- she, “ they will not refuse me that ? ” 

“Lord, no, ma’am,” said the man. “You can give 
them to the keeper and nurse in charge of him.” 

Lady Bassett slipped a guinea into the man’s hand 
directly. 

“ Let me see those people,” said she. 

The man winked and vanished; he soon reappeared, 
and said loudly, “How, madam, if you will order the 
things into the hall.” 


208 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Lady Bassett came out and gave the order. 

A short, bull-necked man, and rather a pretty young 
woman with a flaunting cap, bestirred themselves get¬ 
ting down the things; and Mr. Salter came out and 
looked on. 

Lady Bassett called Mary Wells, and gave her a five- 
pound note to slip into the man’s hand. She telegraphed 
the girl, who instantly came near her with an india- 
rubber bath, and, affecting ignorance, asked her what 
that was. 

Lady Bassett dropped two sovereigns into the bath, 
and said, “ Ten times, twenty times that, if you are kind 
to him. Tell him it is his cousin’s doing, but his wife 
watches over him.” 

“All right,” said the girl. “Come again when the 
doctor is here.” 

All this passed in swift whispers a few yards from Mr. 
Salter, and he now came forward, and offered his arm to 
conduct Lady Bassett to the carriage. 

But the wretched heart-broken wife forgot her art of 
pleasing; she shrank from him with a faint cry of 
aversion, and got into her carriage unaided. Mary Wells 
followed her. 

Mr. Salter was unwilling to receive this rebuff. He 
followed and said, “ The clothes shall be given with any 
message you may think fit to intrust to me.” 

Lady Bassett turned away sharply from him, and said 
to Mary Wells, “ Tell him to drive home. Home! 
I have none now. Its light is torn from me.” 

The carriage drove away as she uttered these piteous 
words. 

She cried at intervals all the way home, and could 
hardly drag herself up-stairs to bed. 

Mr. Angelo called next day with bad news. Hot a 
magistrate would move a finger against Mr. Bassett; he 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


209 


had the law on his side. “ Sir Charles was evidently in¬ 
sane ; it was quite proper he should be put in security, 
before he did some mischief to himself or Lady Bassett. 
They say, why was he hidden for two months, if there 
was not something very wrong ? ” 

Lady Bassett ordered the carriage, and paid several 
calls, to counteract this fatal impression. 

She found, to her horror, she might as well try to 
move a rock. There was plenty of kindness, and pity; 
but the moment she began to assure them her husband 
was not insane, she was met with the dead silence of 
polite incredulity. One or two old friends went fur¬ 
ther, and said, “My dear, we are told he could not be 
taken away without two doctors’ certificates; now, con¬ 
sider, they must know better than you. Have patience, 
and let them cure him.” 

Lady Bassett withdrew her friendship on the spot 
from two ladies for contradicting her on such a subject; 
she returned home almost wild herself. 

In the village her carriage was stopped by a woman 
with her hair all flying, who told her in a lamentable 
voice that Squire Bassett had sent nine men to prison 
for taking Sir Charles’s part and ill-treating his captors. 

“ My lawyer shall defend them at my expense,” said 
Lady Bassett, with a sigh. 

At last she got home, and went up to her own room, 
and there was Mary Wells waiting to dress her. 

She tottered in, and sank into a chair. But, after this 
temporary exhaustion, came a rising tempest of passion; 
her eyes roved, her fingers worked, and her heart seemed 
to come out of her in words of fire. “I have not a friend 
in all the county. That villain has only to say ‘ Mad,’ 
and all turn from me, as if an angel of truth had said 
1 Criminal.’ We have no friend but one, and she is my 
servant; now go and envy wealth and titles. No wife 
14 


210 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


in this parish is so poor as I; powerless in the folds of a 
serpent. I can’t see my husband without an order from 
him. He is all power, and I and mine all weakness.” 
She raised her clenched fists, she clutched her beautiful 
hair as if she would tear it out by the roots. “ I shall 
go mad ! I shall go mad ! No! ” said she, all of a sud¬ 
den, “ that will not do. That is what he wants — and 
then my darling would be defenceless. I will not go 
mad.” Then suddenly grinding her white teeth, “I’ll 
teach him to drive a lady to despair. I’ll fight.” 

She descended, almost without a break, from the fury 
of a Pythoness to a strange calm. Oh! then it is her 
sex are dangerous. 

“Don’t look so pale,” said she, and she actually 
smiled. “ All is fair against so foul a villain. You and 
I will defeat him. Dress me, Mary.” 

Mary Wells, carried away by the unusual violence of 
a superior mind, was quite bewildered. 

Lady Bassett smiled a strange smile, and said, “ I’ll 
show you how to dress me; ” and she did give her a 
lesson that astonished her. 

“ And now,” said Lady Bassett, “ I shall dress you.” 
And she took a loose full dress out of her wardrobe, and 
made Mary Wells put it on; but first she inserted some 
stuffing so adroitly, that Mary seemed very buxom, but 
what she wished to hide was hidden. Not so Lady Bas¬ 
sett herself; her figure looked much rounder than in the 
last dress she wore. 

With all this she was late for dinner, and when she 
went down Mr. Angelo had just finished telling Mr. Old¬ 
field of the mishap to the villagers. 

Lady Bassett came in animated and beautiful. 

Dinner was announced directly, and a commonplace 
conversation kept up, till the servants were got rid of. 
She then told Mr. Oldfield how she had been refused ad- 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


211 


mittance to Sir Charles at Bellevue House, a plain proof, 
to her mind, they knew her husband was not in¬ 
sane ; and begged him to act with energy, and get Sir 
Charles out before his reason could be permanently in¬ 
jured by the outrage and the horror of his situation. 

This led to a discussion, in which Mr. Angelo and 
Lady Bassett threw out various suggestions, and Mr. 
Oldfield cooled their ardor with sound objections. He 
was familiar with the Statutes de Lunatico, and said 
they had been strictly observed, both in the capture of 
Sir Charles, and in Mr. Salter’s refusal to let the wife 
see the husband. In short, he appeared either unable or 
unwilling to see anything except the strong legal posi¬ 
tion of the adverse party. 

Mr. Oldfield was one of those prudent lawyers, who 
search for the adversary’s strong points, that their 
clients may not be taken by surprise; and that is very 
wise of them. But wise things require to be done 
wisely; he sometimes carried this system so far as to 
discourage his client too much. It is a fine thing to 
make your client think his case the weaker of the two, 
and then win it for him easily; that gratifies your own 
foible, professional vanity. But suppose, with your dis¬ 
couraging him so, he flings up, or compromises, a win¬ 
ning case ? Suppose he takes the huff, and goes to some 
other lawyer, who will warm him with hopes, instead of 
cooling him with a one-sided and hostile view of his 
case ? 

In the present discussion Mr. Oldfield’s habit of begin¬ 
ning by admiring his adversaries, together with his 
knowledge of law and little else, and his secret convic¬ 
tion that Sir Charles was unsound of mind, combined to 
paralyze him, and, not being a man of invention, he 
could not see his way out of the wood at all. He could 
negative Mr. Angelo’s suggestions, and give good reasons, 


212 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


but be could not, or did not, suggest anything better to 
be done. 

Lady Bassett listened to his negative wisdom with a 
bitter smile, and said at last, with a sigh, “It seems, 
then, we are to sit quiet, and do nothing, while Mr. Bas¬ 
sett and his solicitor strike blow upon blow. There — 
I’ll fight my own battle, and do you try and find some 
way of defending the poor souls that are in trouble 
because they did not sit with their hands before them 
when their benefactor was outraged. Command my 
purse, if money will save them from a prison.” 

Then she rose with dignity, and walked like a camelo¬ 
pard all down the room on the side opposite Mr. Old¬ 
field. Angelo flew to open the door, and in a whisper 
begged a word with her in private. She bowed assent, 
and passed on from the room. 

“ What a fine creature! ” said Mr. Oldfield. “ How 
she walks! ” 

Mr. Angelo made no reply to this, but asked him what 
was to be done for the poor men. “They will be up 
before the Bench to-morrow.” 

Stung a little by Lady Bassett’s remark, Mr. Oldfield 
answered promptly, “We must get some tradesmen to 
bail them with our money. It will only be a few pounds 
apiece. If the bail is accepted, they shall offer pecuniary 
compensation and get up a defence. Bind somebody to 
swear Sir Charles was sane — that sort of evidence is 
always to be got. Counsel must do the rest. Simple 
natives — benefactor outraged — honest impulse — re¬ 
gretted, the moment they understood the capture had 
been legally made. Then throw dirt on the plaintiff. 
He is malicious, and can be proved to have forsworn 
himself in Bassett v. Bassett.” 

A tap at the door, and Mary Wells put in her head. 
“ If you please, sir, my lady is tired, and she wishes to 
say a word to you before she goes up-stairs.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


213 


“Excuse me one minute,” said Mr. Angelo, and fol¬ 
lowed Mary Wells. She ushered him into a boudoir, 
where he found Lady Bassett seated in an armchair, 
with her head on her hand, and her eyes fixed sadly on 
the carpet. 

She smiled faintly, and said, “Well, what do you wish 
to say to me ? ” 

“ It is about Mr. Oldfield. He is clearly incompetent.” 

“ I don’t know. I snubbed him, poor man; but if the 
law is all against us ! ” 

“ How does he know that ? He assumes it, because 
he is prejudiced in favor of the enemy. How does he 
know they have done everything the Act of Parliament 
requires ? And if they have, Law is not invincible. 
When Law defies Morality, it gets baffled, and trampled 
on, in all civilized communities.” 

“ I never heard that before.” 

“ But you would, if you had been at Oxford,” said he, 
smiling. 

“Ah!” 

“What we want is a man of invention, a man who 
will see every chance, take every chance, lawful or 
unlawful, and fight with all manner of weapons.” 

Lady Bassett’s eye flashed a moment. “Ah!” said 
she; “ but where can I find such a man, with knowledge 
to guide his zeal ? ” 

“I think I know of a man who could at all events 
advise you, if you would ask him.” 

“Ah! Who?” 

“He is a writer, and opinions vary as to his merit. 
Some say he has talent; others say it is all eccentricity 
and affectation. One thing is certain: his books bring 
about the changes he demands. And then he is in 
earnest; he has taken a good many alleged lunatics out 
of confinement.” 


214 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Is it possible ? then let us apply to him at once.” 

“ He lives in London; but I have a friend who knows 
him. May I send an outline to him through that friend, 
and ask him whether he can advise you in the matter ? ” 

“ You may; and thank you a thousand times ! ” 

“A mind like that, with knowledge, zeal, and inven¬ 
tion, must surely throw some light.” 

“ One would think so, dear friend.” 

“ I’ll write to-night, and send a letter to Greatrex; we 
shall perhaps get an answer the day after to-morrow.” 

“ Ah! you are not the one to go to sleep in the service 
of a friend. A writer, did you say ? What does he 
write ? ” 

“ Fiction.” 

“ What, novels ? ” 

“ And dramas, and all.” 

Lady Bassett sighed incredulously. “ I should never 
think of going to fiction for wisdom.” 

“When the Family Calas were about to be executed 
unjustly, with the consent of all the lawyers and states¬ 
men in France, one man in a nation saw the error, and 
fought for the innocent, and saved them; and that one 
wise man, in a nation of fools, was a writer of fiction.” 

“Oh, a learned Oxonian can always answer a poor 
ignorant thing like me. One swallow does not make 
summer, for all thaL” 

“ But this writer’s fictions are not like the novels you , 
read; they are works of laborious research. Besides, 
he is a lawyer as well as a novelist.” 

“ Oh, if he is a lawyer! ” 

“ Then I may write ? ” 

“Yes,” said Lady Bassett, despondingly. 

“ What is to become of Oldfield ? ” 

“ Send him to the drawing-room. I will go down and 
endure him for another hour. You can write your letter 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


215 


here, and then please come and relieve me of Mr. 
Negative.” 

She rang, and ordered coffee and tea into the drawing¬ 
room ; and Mr. Oldfield found her very cold company. 

In half an hour Mr. Angelo came down, looking flushed 
and very handsome; and Lady Bassett had some fresh 
tea made for him. 

This done, she bade the gentlemen good-night, and 
went to her room: here she found Mary Wells full of 
curiosity to know whether the lawyer would get Sir 
Charles out of the asylum. 

Lady Bassett gave loose to her indignation, and said 
nothing was to be expected from such a nullity. “ Mary, 
he could not see. I gave him every opportunity; I 
walked slowly down the room before him, after dinner, 
and I came into the drawing-room, and moved about, and 
yet he could not see.” 

“ Then you will have to tell him, that is all.” 

“Never: no more shall you. I’ll not trust my fate, 
and Sir Charles’s, to a man that has no eyes.” 

For this feminine reason she took a spite against poor 
Oldfield; but, to Mr. Angelo^ she suppressed the real 
reason, and entered into that ardent gentleman’s grounds 
of discontent, though these alone would not have entirely 
dissolved her respect for the family solicitor. 

Next afternoon Angelo came to her in great distress 
and ire. “Beaten! beaten! and all through our adver¬ 
saries having more talent. Mr. Bassett did not appear 
at first. Wheeler excused him, on the ground that his 
wife was seriously ill through the fright. Bassett’s 
servants were called, and swore to the damage and to 
the men, all but one. He got off. Then Oldfield made 
a dry speech; and a tradesman he had prepared offered 
bail. The magistrates were consulting, when in burst 
Mr. Bassett, all in black, and made a speech fifty times 


216 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


stronger than Oldfield’s, and sobbed, and told them the 
rioters had frightened his wife so, she had been prema¬ 
turely confined, and the child was dead. Could they take 
bail for a riot, a dastardly attack by a mob of cowards 
on a poor defenceless woman, the gentlest and most in¬ 
offensive creature in England ? Then he went on: 
‘They were told I was not in the house; and then 
they found courage to fling stones, to terrify my wife, 
and kill my child. Poor soul!’ he said, ‘ she lies be¬ 
tween life and death herself: and I come here in an 
agony of fear, but I come for justice; the man of straw, 
who offers bail, is furnished with the money by those 
who stimulated the outrage. Defeat that fraud, and 
teach these cowards, who war on defenceless ladies, that 
there is humanity, and justice, and law in the land.’ 
Then Oldfield tried to answer him with his hems and 
his haws; but Bassett turned on him like a giant, and 
swept him away.” 

“ Poor woman ! ” 

“ Ah! that is true: I am afraid I have thought too 
little of her. But you suffer, and so must she. It is the 
most terrible feud: one would think this was Corsica, 
instead of England, only the fighting is not done with 
daggers. But, after this, pray lean no more on that Old¬ 
field. We were all carried away at first; but, now I 
think of it, Bassett must have been in the court, and 
held back to make the climax. Oh, yes ! it was another 
surprise, and another success. They are all sent to jail. 
Superior generalship! If Wheeler had been our man, 
we should have had eight wives crying for pity, each 
with one child in her arms, and another holding on to 
her apron. Do, pray, Lady Bassett, dismiss that nullity.” 

“ Oh, I cannot do that; he is Sir Charles’s lawyer; but 
I have promised you to seek advice elsewhere, and so I 
will.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


217 


The conversation was interrupted by the tolling of the 
church bell. 

The first note startled Lady Bassett, and she turned 
pale. 

“ I must leave you,” said Angelo regretfully. “ I have 
to bury Mr. Bassett’s little boy: he lived an hour.” 

Lady Bassett sat and heard the bell toll. 

Strange sad thoughts passed through her mind. “ Is 
it saddest when it tolls, or when it rings — that bell ? 
He has killed his own child, by robbing me of my hus¬ 
band. We are in the hands of God, after all, let Wheeler 
be ever so cunning, and Oldfield ever so simple. — And 
I am not acting by that. — Where is my trust in God’s 
justice? — 0 thou of little faith!—What shall I do ? 
Love is stronger in me than faith — stronger than any¬ 
thing in heaven or earth. God forgive me — God help 
me — I will go back. 

“ But, oh! to stand still, and be good and simple, and 
so see my husband trampled on by a cunning villain! 

“ Why is there a future state, where everything is to 
be different ? no hate ; no injustice ; all love. Why is it 
not all of a piece ? Why begin wrong, if it is to end all 
right ? If I waTomnipotent, it should be right from the 
first. — 0 thou of little faith! — Ah me ! it is hard to see 
fools and devils, and realize angels unseen. Oh that I 
could shut my eyes in faith, and go to sleep, and drift 
on the right path: for I shall never take it with my 
eyes open, and my heart bleeding for him.” 

Then her head fell languidly back, her eyes closed, 
and the tears welled through them: they knew the way 
by this time. 


218 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

Next morning in came Mr. Angelo, with glowing 
cheeks and sparkling eyes. 

“ I have got a letter, a most gratifying one. My friend 
called on Mr. Rolfe, and gave him my lines; and he 
replies direct to me. May I read you his letter ? ” 

“ Oh, yes.” 

Dear Sir, —The case you have sent me, of a gentleman 
confined on certificates by order of an interested relative, — as 
you presume, for you have not seen the order, — and on grounds? 
you think insufficient, is interesting, and some of it looks true; 
but there are gaps in the statement, and I dare not advise in 
so nice a matter till these are filled; but that I suspect can only 
be done by the lady herself. She had better call on me in 
person; it may be worth her while. At home every day, 10-3, 
this week. As for yourself, you need not address me through 
Greatrex. I have seen you pull No. 6, and afterwards stroke, 
in the University boat, and you dived in Portsmouth harbor, 
and saved a sailor. See “ Ryde Journal,” Aug. 10, p. 4, col. 3; 
cited in my Day-book, Aug. 10, and also in my Index hominum, 
in voce ‘ ‘ Angelo ” — ha! ha! here's a fellow for detail. 

Yours very truly, Rolfe. 

“ And did you ? ” 

“ Did I what ? ” 

“ Dive, and save a soldier ? ” 

“No; I nailed him just as he was sinking.” 

“ How good and brave you are ! ” 

Angelo blushed like a girl. “ It makes me too happy 
to hear such words from you. But I vote we don’t talk 
about me. Will you call on Mr. Rolfe ? ” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


219 


“ Is he married ? ” 

Angelo opened his eyes at the question. 

“ I think not,” said he; “ indeed, I know he is not.” 

“ Could you get him down here ? ” 

Angelo shook his head. 

“ If he knew you — perhaps — but can you expect him 
to come here upon your business ? These popular writers 
are spoiled by the ladies. I doubt if he would walk 
across the street to advise a stranger. Candidly, why 
should he ? ” 

“No: and it was ridiculous vanity to suppose he would. 
But I never called on a gentleman in my life.” 

“ Take me with you. You can go up at nine, and be 
back to a late dinner.” 

“ I shall never have the courage to go. Let me have 
his letter.” 

He gave her the letter, and she took it away. 

At six o’clock she sent Mary Wells to Mr. Angelo with 
a note to say she had studied Mr. Rolfe’s letter, and there 
was more in it than she had thought; but his going oft 
from her husband to boat-racing seemed trivial, and she 
could not make up her mind to go to London to con¬ 
sult a novelist on such a serious matter. 

At nine she sent to say she should go, but could not 
think of dragging him there; she should take her 
maid. 

Before eleven she half repented this resolution, but 
her maid kept her to it, and at half-past twelve next day 
they reached Mr. Rolfe’s door; an old-fashioned, mean¬ 
looking house, in one of the briskest thoroughfares of 
the metropolis; a cab-stand opposite the door, and a tide 
of omnibuses passing it. 

Lady Bassett viewed the place discontentedly, and said 
to herself, “ What a poky little place for a writer to live 
in; how noisy, how unpoetical! ” 


220 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


They knocked at the door. It was opened by a maid¬ 
servant. 

“ Is Mr. Kolfe at home ? ” 

“Yes, ma’am. Please give me your card, and write 
the business.” 

Lady Bassett took out her card, and wrote a line or 
two on the back of it. The maid glanced at it, and 
showed her into a room while she took the card to her 
master. 

The room was rather long, low, and nondescript. 
Scarlet-flock paper. Curtains and sofas, green Utrecht 
velvet. Woodwork and pillars, white and gold. Two 
windows looking on the street. At the other end folding- 
doors with scarcely any woodwork, all plate-glass, but 
partly hidden by heavy curtains of the same color and 
material as the others. 

Accustomed to large, lofty rooms, Lady Bassett felt 
herself in a long box here; but the colors pleased her. 
She said to Mary Wells, “What a funny, cosey little 
place, for a gentleman to live in! ” 

Mr. Rolfe was engaged with some one, and she was 
kept waiting; this was quite new to her, and discouraged 
her, already intimidated by the novelty of the situation. 

She tried to encourage herself by saying it was for her 
husband she did this unusual thing; but she felt very 
miserable, and inclined to cry. 

At last a bell rang; the maid came in, and invited 
Lady Bassett to follow her. She opened the glass folding- 
doors, and took them into a small conservatory, walled 
like a grotto, with ferns sprouting out of rocky fissures, 
and spars sparkling; water dripping. Then she opened 
two more glass folding-doors, and ushered them into an 
empty room, the like of which Lady Bassett had never 
seen; it was large in itself, and multiplied tenfold by 
great mirrors from floor to ceiling, with no frames but a 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


221 


narrow oak beading; opposite her, on entering, was a bay 
window, all plate glass, the central panes of which opened, 
like doors, upon a pretty little garden that glowed with 
color, and was backed by fine trees belonging to the 
nation: for this garden ran up to the wall of Hyde Park. 

The numerous and large mirrors all down to the ground 
laid hold of the garden and the flowers, and by double 
and treble reflection filled the room with nooks of verdure 
and color. 

To confuse the eye still more, a quantity of young 
India-rubber trees, with glossy leaves, were placed be¬ 
fore the large central mirror. The carpet was a warm 
velvet-pile, the walls were distempered, a Prench gray, 
not cold, but with a tint of mauve that gave a warm and 
cheering bloom; this soothing color gave great effect to 
the one or two masterpieces of painting that hung on 
the walls, and to the gilt frames; the furniture, oak, and 
marqueterie highly polished; the curtains, scarlet merino, 
through which the sun shone, and, being a London sun, 
diffused a mild rosy tint favorable to female faces. Not 
a sound of London could be heard. 

So far, the room was romantic; but there was a prosaic 
corner to shock those who fancy that fiction is the spon¬ 
taneous overflow of a poetic fountain fed by nature only. 
Between the fireplace and the window, and within a 
foot or two of the wall, stood a gigantic writing-table, 
with the signs of hard labor on it, and of severe system. 
Three plated buckets, each containing three pints, full of 
letters to be answered, other letters to be pasted into a 
classified guard-book, loose notes to be pasted into various 
books and classified (for this writer used to sneer at the 
learned men who say, “ I will look among my papers for 
it; ” he held that every written scrap ought either to be 
burned or pasted into a classified guard-book, where it 
could be found by consulting the index); five things like 


222 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


bankers’ bill-books, into whose several compartments 
MS. notes and newspaper cuttings were thrown, as a 
preliminary towards classification in books. 

Underneath the table was a formidable array of note¬ 
books, standing upright, and labelled on their backs. 
There were about twenty large folios of classified facts, 
ideas, and pictures; for the very woodcuts were all indexed 
and classified on the plan of a tradesman’s ledger; there 
was also the receipt-book of the year, treated on the 
same plan. Receipts on a file would not do for this 
romantic creature; if a tradesman brought a bill, he 
must be able to turn to that tradesman’s name in a book, 
and prove in a moment whether it had been paid or not. 
Then there was a collection of solid quartos, and of 
smaller folio guard-books called Indexes. There was 
“ Index rerum et journalium,” “ Index rerum et librorum,” 
“ Index rerum et hominum,” and a lot more; indeed, so 
many that, by way of climax, there was a fat folio ledger 
entitled “ Index ad Indices.” 

By the side of the table were six or seven thick paste¬ 
board cards, each about the size of a large portfolio, and 
on these the author’s notes and extracts were collected 
from all his repertories into something like a focus for a 
present purpose. He was writing a novel based on facts. 
Pacts, incidents, living dialogue, pictures, reflections, situ¬ 
ations, were all on these cards to choose from, and arranged 
in headed columns; and some portions of the work he 
was writing on this basis of imagination and drudgery 
lay on the table in two forms, his own writing and his 
secretary’s copy thereof, the latter corrected for the press. 
This copy was half margin, and so provided for additions 
and improvements, but for one addition there were ten 
excisions, great and small. 

Lady Bassett had just time to take in the beauty and 
artistic character of the place, and to realize the appall- 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


223 


ing drudgery that stamped it a workshop, when the 
author, who had dashed into his garden for a moment’s 
recreation, came to the window and furnished contrast 
No. 3, for he looked neither like a poet nor a drudge, hut 
a great fat country farmer. He was rather tall, very 
portly, smallish head, commonplace features, mild brown 
eye not very bright, short beard, and wore a suit of tweed 
all one color. Such looked the writer of romances founded 
on facts. He rolled up to the window, — for, if he looked 
like a farmer, he walked like a sailor,—and stepped into 
the room. 


224 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Mr. Rolfe surveyed the two women with a mild, 
inoffensive, ox-like gaze, and invited them to be seated 
with homely civility. 

He sat down at his desk, and turning to Lady Bassett, 
said rather dreamily, “ One moment, please : let me look 
at the case, and my notes.” 

First his homely appearance, and now a certain lan¬ 
guor about his manner, discouraged Lady Bassett more 
than it need, for all artists must pay for their excite¬ 
ments with occasional languor. Her hands trembled, 
and she began to gulp and try not to cry. 

Mr. Rolfe observed directly, and said rather kindly, 
“ You are agitated — and no wonder.” 

He then opened a sort of china closet, poured a few 
drops of colorless liquid from a tiny bottle into a wine¬ 
glass, and filled the glass with water from a filter. 
“ Drink that, if you please.” 

She looked at him, with her eyes brimming. “ Must I ? ” 

“ Yes, it will do you good for once in a way. It is 
only Ignatia.” 

She drank it by degrees, and a tear along with it that 
fell into the glass. 

Meantime Mr. Rolfe had returned to his notes and 
examined them; he then addressed her, half stiffly, half 
kindly. 

“Lady Bassett — whatever may be your husband’s 
condition, whether his illness is mental or bodily, or a 
mixture of the two — his clandestine examination by 
bought physicians, and his violent capture, the natural 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


225 


effect of which must have been to excite him and retard 
his cure, were wicked and barbarous acts, contrary to 
God’s law, and the common law of England, and, indeed, 
to all human law, except our shallow incautious Statutes 
de Lunatico: they were an insult to yourself, who ought, 
at least, to have been consulted, for your rights are 
higher and purer than Richard Bassett’s: therefore, as 
a wife bereaved of your husband by fraud and violence, 
and the bare letter of a paltry statute whose spirit has 
been violated, you are quite justified in coming to me, 
or to any public man you think can help your husband 
and you.” Then with a certain bonhomie , “ So lay aside 
your nervousness: let us go into this matter sensibly; 
like a big man and a little man, or like an old woman 
and a young woman, whichever you prefer.” 

Lady Bassett looked at him, and smiled assent; she 
felt a great deal more at her ease after this opening. 

“ I dare not advise you yet. I must know more than 
Mr. Angelo has told me. Will you answer my questions 
frankly ? ” 

“ I will try, sir.” 

“ Whose idea was it, confining Sir Charles Bassett to 
the house so much ? ” 

“ His own. He felt himself unfit for society.” 

“ Did he describe his ailment to you then ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ All the better : what did he say ? ” 

“ He said that, at times, a cloud seemed to come into 
his head, and then he lost all power of mind: and he 
could not bear to be seen in that condition.” 

“ This was after the epileptic seizure ? ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ Humph! Now will you tell me how Mr. Bassett, 
by mere words, could so enrage Sir Charles as to give 
him a fit ? ” 

15 


226 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Lady Bassett hesitated. 

“ What did he say to Sir Charles ? ” 

“ He did not speak to him. His child and nurse were 
there, and he called out loud for Sir Charles to hear, and 
told the nurse to hold up his child to look at his inher¬ 
itance.” 

“ Malicious fool! But did this enrage Sir Charles so 
much as to give him a fit ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ He must be very sensitive.” 

“ On that subject.” 

Mr. Rolfe was silent; and now, for the first time, 
appeared to think intently. 

His study bore fruit apparently; for he turned to 
Lady Bassett, and said suddenly, “ What is the strangest 
thing Sir Charles has said of late — the very strangest ? ” 

Lady Bassett turned red, and then pale, and made no 
reply. 

Mr. Rolfe rose, and walked up to Mary Wells. 

“What is the maddest thins: your master has ever 
said?” 

Mary Wells, instead of replying, looked at her mis¬ 
tress. 

The writer instantly put his great body between them. 
“ Come, none of that,” said he. “ I don’t want a false¬ 
hood ; I want the truth.” 

“La, sir, I don’t know. My master he is not mad, 
I’m sure; the queerest thing he ever said was, he did 
say at one time ’twas writ on his face as he had no 
children.” 

“ Ah! And that is why he would not go abroad, per¬ 
haps.” 

“That was one reason, sir, I do suppose.” 

Mr. Rolfe put his hands behind his back, and walked 
thoughtfully, and rather disconsolately, back to his seat. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


227 


“Humph!” said he. Then, after a pause, “Well, 
well; I know the worst now; that is one comfort. 
Lady Bassett, you really must be candid with me. Con¬ 
sider ; good advice is like a tight glove; it fits the cir¬ 
cumstances, and it does not fit other circumstances. No 
man advises so badly on a false and partial statement as 
I do, for the very reason that my advice is a close fit. 
Even now, I can’t understand Sir Charles’s despair of 
having children of his own.” 

The writer then turned his looks on the two women, 
with an entire absence of expression: the sense of his 
eyes was turned inwards, though the orbs were directed 
towards his visitors. 

With this lack-lustre gaze, and in the tone of thought¬ 
ful soliloquy, he said, “ Has Sir Charles Bassett no eyes ? 
and are there women so furtive, so secret, or so bashful, 
they do not tell their husbands ? ” 

Lady Bassett turned, with a scared look, to Mary 
Wells, and that young woman showed her usual readi¬ 
ness. She actually came to Mr. Rolfe, and half-whis¬ 
pered to him, “If you please, sir, gentlemen are blind, 
and my lady she is very bashful; but Sir Charles knows 
it now; he have known it a good while; and it was a 
great comfort to him: he was getting better, sir, when 
the villains took him: ever so much better.” 

This solution silenced Mr. Rolfe, though it did not 
quite satisfy him. He fastened on Mary Wells’s last 
statement. " Now tell me; between the day when those 
two doctors got into his apartment, and the day of his 
capture, how long ? ” 

“About a fortnight.” 

“ And in that particular fortnight, was there a marked 
improvement ? ” 

“ La, yes, sir; was there not, my lady ? ” 

“Indeed, there was, sir. He was beginning to take 


228 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


walks with me in the garden, and rides in an open car¬ 
riage. He was getting better every day; and oh, sir, 
that is what breaks my heart; I was curing my darling 
so fast, and now they will do all they can to destroy him. 
Their not letting his wife see him terrifies me.” 

“I think I can explain that. Now tell me — what 
time do you expect a certain event ? ” 

Lady Bassett blushed, and cast a hasty glance at the 
speaker; but he had a piece of paper before him, and 
was preparing to take down her reply, with the inno¬ 
cent face of a man who had asked a simple and neces¬ 
sary question, in the way of business. 

Then Lady Bassett looked at Mary Wells, and this 
look Mr. Bolfe surprised, because he himself looked up, 
to see why the lady hesitated. 

After an expressive glance between the mistress and 
maid, the lady said, almost inaudibly, “ More than three 
months,” and then she blushed all over. 

Mr. Bolfe looked at the two women a moment, and 
seemed a little puzzled at their telegraphing each other 
on such a subject, but he coolly noted down Lady Bas¬ 
sett’s reply, on a card about the size of a foolscap sheet; 
and then set himself to write on the same card the 
other facts he had elicited. 

Whilst he was doing this very slowly, with great care 
and pains, the lady was eying him, like a zoologist study¬ 
ing some new animal; the simplicity and straightfor¬ 
wardness of his last question won by degrees upon her 
judgment and reconciled her to her inquisitor, the more 
so, as he was quiet but intense, and his whole soul in 
her case. She began to respect his simple straightfor¬ 
wardness, his civility without a grain of gallantry, and 
his caution in eliciting all the facts before he would 
advise. 

After he had written down this synopsis, looking all 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


229 


the time as if his life depended on its correctness, he 
leaned back, and his ordinary but mobile countenance 
was transfigured into geniality. 

“ Come,” said he, “ grandmamma has pestered you with 
questions enough; now you retort: ask me anything — 
speak your mind — these things should be attacked in 
every form, and sifted with every sieve.” 

Lady Bassett hesitated a moment, but at last responded 
to this invitation. 

“Sir, one thing that discourages me cruelly — my 
solicitor seems so inferior to Mr. Bassett’s. He can 
think of nothing but objections, so he does nothing, and 
lets us be trampled on; it is his being unable to cope 
with Mr. Bassett’s solicitor, Mr. Wheeler, that has led 
me in my deep distress to trouble you, whom I had not 
the honor of knowing.” 

“ I understand your ladyship perfectly; Mr. Oldfield 
is a respectable solicitor, and Wheeler is a sharp country 
practitioner, and, to use my favorite Americanism, you 
feel like fighting with a blunt knife against a sharp one.” 

“ That is my feeling, sir, and it drives me almost wild 
sometimes.” 

“ Bor your comfort, then, in my earlier litigations — 
I have had sixteen lawsuits, for myself and other 
oppressed people — I had often that very impression, 
but the result always corrected it. Legal battles are 
like other battles ; first you have a skirmish or two, and 
then a great battle in court. Now sharp attorneys are 
very apt to win the skirmish — and lose the battle. I 
see a general of this stamp in Mr. Wheeler, and you 
need not fear him much. Of course an antagonist is 
never to be despised ; but I would rather have Wheeler 
against you than Oldfield. An honest man like Oldfield 
blunders into wisdom, the Lord knows how. Your 
Wheelers seldom get beyond cunning; and cunning 


230 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION» 


does not see far enough to cope with men of real sagacity 
and forethought in matters so complicated as this. Old¬ 
field, acting for Bassett, would have pushed rapidly on 
to an examination by the court. You would have evaded 
it, and put yourself in the wrong; and the inquiry, well 
urged, might have been adverse to Sir Charles. Wheeler 
has taken a more cunning and violent course : it strikes 
more terror, does more immediate harm — but what does 
it lead to ? Very little; and it disarms them of their 
sharpest weapon, the immediate inquiry; for we could 
now delay and greatly prejudice an inquiry, on the very 
ground of the outrage and unnecessary violence, and 
could demand time to get the patient as well as he was 
before the outrage. And indeed the court is very jealous 
of those who begin by going to a judge, and then alter 
their minds and try to dispose of the case themselves. 
And to make matters worse, here they do it by straining 
an Act of Parliament opposed to equity.” 

“I wish it may prove so, sir; but, meanwhile, Mr. 
Wheeler is active, Mr. Oldfield is passive. He has not 
an idea. He is a mere negative.” 

“ Ah, that is because he is out of his groove. A smat¬ 
tering of law is not enough here; it wants a smattering 
of human nature, too.” 

“Then, sir, would you advise me to part with Mr. 
Oldfield?” 

“ No. Why make an enemy ? Besides, he is the vehicle 
of communication with the other side. You must simply 
ignore him for a time.” 

“ But is there nothing I can do, sir ? for it is this cruel 
inactivity that kills me. Pray advise me—you know 
all now.” 

Mr. Rolfe, thus challenged, begged for a moment’s 
delay. 

“ Let us be silent a minute,” said he, “ and think hard.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


231 


And to judge by bis face, be did think with great 
intensity. 

“ Lady Bassett/’ said be very gravely, “ I assume that 
every fact you and Mr. Angelo have laid before me is true, 
and no vital part is kept back. Well, then, your present 
course is—delay. Not the weak delay of those who 
procrastinate what cannot be avoided, but the wise delay 
of a general who can bring up overpowering forces, only 
give him time. Understand me, there is more than one 
game on the cards, but I prefer the surest. We could 
begin fighting openly to-morrow, but that would be risk¬ 
ing too much for too little. The law’s delay, the inso¬ 
lence of office, the uphill and thorny way, would hurt 
Sir Charles’s mind at present. The apathy, the cruelty, 
the trickery, the routine, the hot and cold fits of hope 
and fear, would poison your blood, and perhaps lose Sir 
Charles the heir he pines for. Besides, if we give battle 
to-day, we fight the heir-at-law; but in three or four 
months, we may have him on our side, and trustees 
appointed by you. By that time, too, Sir Charles will 
have got over that abominable capture, and be better 
than he was a week ago, constantly soothed and con¬ 
soled, as he will be, by the hope of offspring. When 
the right time comes, that moment we strike, and with 
a sledge-hammer: no letters to the commissioners then, 
no petitioning Chancery to send a jury into the asylum, 
stronghold of prejudice. I will cut your husband in two. 
Don’t be alarmed. I will merely give him, with your 
help, an alter ego , who shall effect his liberation, and 
ruin Bichard Bassett; ruin him in damages and costs, 
and drive him out of the country, perhaps. Meantime, 
you are not to be a lay-figure or a mere negative.” 

“ Oh, sir, I am so glad of that! ” 

“ Far from that; you will act defensively. Mr. Bassett 
has one chance. You must be the person to extinguish 


232 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


it. Injudicious treatment in the asylum might retard 
Sir Charles’s cure. Their leeches and their sedatives, 
administered by sucking apothecaries, who reason a priori, 
instead of watching the effect of these things on the 
patient, might seriously injure your husband, for his dis¬ 
order is connected with a weak circulation of blood in 
the vessels of the brain. We must therefore guard against 
that at once. To work, then. Who keeps this famous 
asylum ? ” 

“Dr. Suaby.” 

“ Suaby ? I know that name. He has been here, I 
think. I must look in my Index rerum et hominum. 
Suaby ? Not down. Try Asyla. —Asyla; “Suaby : see 

letter-book for the year-, p. 368.” An old letter-book. 

I must go elsewhere for that.” 

He went out, and after some time returned with a 
folio letter-book. 

“Here are two letters to me from Dr. Suaby detailing 
his system, and inviting me to spend a week at his asy¬ 
lum. Come, come, Sir Charles is with a man who does 
not fear inspection; for, at this date, I was bitter against 
private asylums, rather indiscriminately so I fear. Stay! 
he visited me; I thought so. Here’s a description of 
him: ‘ A pale, thoughtful man, with a remarkably mild 
eye: is against restraint of lunatics, and against all 
punishment of them, — Quixotically so; being cross- 
examined, declares that if a patient gave him a black 
eye, he would not let a keeper handle him roughly, being 
irresponsible.’ No more would I, if I could give him a 
good licking myself. Please study these two letters 
closely ; you may get a clew how to deal with the amiable 
writer in person.” 

“ Oh, thank you, Mr. Rolfe,” said Lady Bassett, flush¬ 
ing all over. She was so transported at having something 
to do. She quietly devoured the letters, and, after she 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


233 


had read them, said a load of fear was now taken Qff her 
mind. 

Mr. Rolfe shook his head. 

“You must not rely on Dr. Suaby too much. In a 
prison, or an asylum, each functionary is important in 
exact proportion to his nominal insignificance ; and why ? 
because the greater his nominal unimportance, the more 
he comes in actual contact with the patient; the theoreti¬ 
cal scale runs thus: 1st, The presiding physician. 2d, 
The medical subordinates. 3d, The keepers and nurses. 
The practical scale runs thus: 1st, The keepers and 
nurses. 2d, The medical attendants. 3d, The presiding 
physician.” 

“ I am glad to hear you say so, sir; for, when I went 
to the asylum, and the medical attendant, Mr. Salter, 
would not let me see my husband, I gave his keeper and 
the nurse a little money, to be kind to him in his con¬ 
finement.” 

“ You did! yet you come here for advice ? This is the 
way; a man discourses and argues, and, by profound 
reasoning — that is, by what he thinks profound, and it 
isn’t — arrives at the right thing : and lo ! a woman with 
her understanding heart, and her hard good sense, goes 
and does that wise thing humbly, without a word. Sur- 
sum corda ! — Cheer up, loving heart! ” shouted he, 
like the roar of a lion in ecstasies; “ you have done a 
master-stroke — without Oldfield, or Rolfe, or any other 
man.” 

Lady Bassett clasped her hands with joy, and some 
electric fire seemed to run through her veins; for she 
was all sensibilities, and this sudden triumphant roaring 
out of strong words was quite new to her, and carried 
her away. 

“ Well,” said the eccentric personage, cooling quite as 
suddenly as he had fired, “ the only improvement I can 


234 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


suggest is — be a little more precise at your next visit; 
promise liis keepers twenty guineas apiece, the day Sir 
Charles is cured; and promise them ten guineas apiece 
not to administer one drop of medicine for the next two 
months; and, of course, no leech nor blister. The cursed 
sedatives they believe in are destruction to Sir Charles 
Bassett. His circulation must not be made too slow one 
day, and too fast the next, wdiich is the effect of a seda¬ 
tive, but made regular by exercise, and nourishing food. 
So, then, you will square the keepers, by their cupidity ; 
the doctor is on the right side per se. Shall we rely on 
these two, and ignore the medical attendants ? What is 
the key to these medical attendants ? Hum! Try 
flunkeyism. I have great faith in British flunkeyism. 
Pay your next visit with four horses, two outriders, and 
blazing liveries. Don’t dress in perfect taste like that; 
go in finer clothes than you ever wore in the morning, or 
ought to wear, except at a wedding; go, not as a peti¬ 
tioner, but as a queen, and dazzle snobs ; the which being 
dazzled, then tickle their vanity : don’t speak of Sir 
Charles as an injured man, nor as a man unsound in 
mind, but a gentleman who is rather ill, ‘ but ?iow, 
gentlemen, I feel your remarkable skill will soon set him 
right.’ Your husband runs that one risk; make him 
safe; a few smiles, and a little flattery, will do it: and 
if not, why, fight with all a woman’s weapons. Don’t be 
too nice: we must all hold a candle to the devil once in 
our lives ; a wife’s love sanctifies a woman’s arts in fight¬ 
ing with a villain, and disarming donkeys.” 

“ Oh, I wish I was there now ! ” 

“ You are excited, madam,” said he severely. “ That 
is out of place — in a deliberative assembly.” 

“No, no: only I want to be there, doing all this for 
my dear husband.” 

“ You are very excited, and it is my fault. You must 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


235 


be hungry, too: you have come a journey. There will 
be a reaction, and then you will be hysterical. Your 
temperament is of that kind.” 

He rang a bell, ordered his maid-servant to bring some 
beef wafers and a pint of dry champagne. 

Lady Bassett remonstrated, but he told her to be 
quiet; “ for,” said he, “ I have a smattering of medicine, 
as well as of law and of human nature. Sir Charles 
must correspond with you. Probably he has already 
written you six letters, complaining of this monstrous 
act, —a sane man incarcerated. Well, that class of letter 
goes into a letter-box in the hall of an asylum, but it 
never reaches its address. Please take a pen, and write 
a formula.” He dictated as follows : — 

My dear Love, — The trifling illness I had when I came 
here is beginning to give way to the skill and attention of the 
medical gentlemen here. They are all most kind and atten¬ 
tive. The place, as it is conducted, is a credit to the country. 

Lady Bassett’s eyes sparkled. “ Oh, Mr. Rolfe, is not 
this rather artful ? ” 

“ And is it not artful to put up a letter-box, encourage 
the writing of letters, and then open them, and suppress 
whatever is disagreeable ? May every man who opens 
another man’s letter find that letter a trap ! Here comes 
your medicine. You never drink champagne in the 
middle of the day, of course ? ” 

“ Oh, no.” 

“ Then it will be all the better medicine.” 

He made both mistress and maid eat the thin slices of 
beef, and drink a glass of champagne. 

Whilst they were thus fortifying themselves, he wrote 
liis address on some stamped envelopes, and gave them 
to Lady Bassett, and told her she had better write to 
him at once, if anything occurred. “You must also 


236 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


write to me if you really cannot get to see your husband. 
Then I will come down myself, with the public press at 
my back. But I am sure that will not be necessary in 
Dr. Suaby’s asylum. He is a better Christian than I am, 
confound him for it! You went too soon ; your husband 
had been agitated by the capture; Suaby was away; 
Salter had probably applied what he imagined to be 
soothing remedies, leeches — a blister — morphia. Re¬ 
sult, the patient was so much worse than he was before 
they touched him, that Salter was ashamed to let you 
see him. Having really excited him, instead of soothing 
him, Sawbones Salter had to pretend that you would 
excite him. As if creation contained any mineral, drug, 
simple, leech, Spanish fly, gadfly, or shower-bath, so 
soothing as a loving wife is to a man in affliction. Hew 
reading of an old song, — 

‘ If the heart of a man is oppressed with cares, 

It makes him much worse when a woman appears.’ 

Go to-morrow: you will see him. He will be worse than 
he was, but not much. Somebody will have told him 
that his wife put him in there ’ — 

“ Oh, oh! ” 

“ And he will not have believed it. His father was a 
Bassett, his mother a Le Compton; his great-great-great¬ 
grandmother was a Rolfe; there is no cur’s blood in him. 
After the first shock he will have found the spirit and 
dignity of a gentleman, to sustain adversity; these men 
of fashion are like that: they are better steel than 
women — and writers.” 

When he had said this he indicated by his manner 
that he thought he had exhausted the subject and him¬ 
self. 

Lady Bassett rose and said, “ Then, sir, I will take my 
leave; and oh, I am sorry I have not your eloquent pen, 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


237 


or your eloquent tongue, to thank you. You have inter¬ 
ested yourself in a stranger, you have brought the power 
of a great mind to bear on our distress. I came here a 
widow: now I feel a wife again. Your good words have 
warmed my very heart. I can only pray God to bless 
you, sir.” 

“ Pray say no more, madam,” said Mr. Rolfe hastily. 
“ A gentleman cannot be always writing lies; an hour 
or two given to truth and justice is a wholesome diver¬ 
sion. At all events don’t thank me till my advice has 
proved worth it.” 

He rang the bell: the servant came, and showed the 
way to the street door. Mr. Rolfe followed them to the 
passage only, whence he bowed ceremoniously once more 
to Lady Bassett as she went out. 

As she passed into the street she heard a fearful clat¬ 
ter. It was her counsellor tearing back to his interrupted 
novel like a distracted bullock. 

"Well, I don’t think much of he,” said Mary Wells. 

Lady Bassett was mute to that, and all the journey 
home very absorbed and taciturn: impregnated with 
ideas she could not have invented, but was more able to 
execute than the inventor. She was absorbed in digest¬ 
ing Rolfe’s every word, and fixing his map in her mind, 
and filling in details to his outline; so small-talk stung 
her. She gave her companion very short answers, espe¬ 
cially when she disparaged Mr. Rolfe.' 

“You couldn’t get in a word edgeways,” said Mary 
Wells. 

“ I went to hear wisdom, and not to clatter.” 

“ He doesn’t think small beer of hisself, anyhow.” 

“ How can he, and see other men ? ” 

“ Well, I don’t think much of him, for my part.” 

“ I dare say the Queen of Sheba’s lady’s-maid thought 
Solomon a silly thing.” 


238 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“I don’t know; that was afore my time” (rather 
pertly). 

“ Of course it was, or you couldn’t imitate her.” 

On reaching home she ordered a light dinner up-stairs, 
and sent directions to the coachman and grooms. 

At nine next morning the four-in-hand came round, 
and they started for the asylum; • coachman and two 
more in brave liveries ; two outriders. 

Twenty miles from Huntercombe they changed the 
wheelers, two fresh horses having been sent on at night. 

They drove in at the lodge-gate of Bellevue House, 
which was left ostentatiously open, and soon drew up 
at the hall door, and set many a pale face peeping from 
the upper windows. 

The door opened, the respectable servant came out, 
with a respectful air. 

“ Is Mr. Salter at home, sir ? ” 

“No, madam. Mr. Coyne is in charge to-day.” 

Lady Bassett was glad to hear that, and asked if she 
might be allowed to see Mr. Coyne. 

“ Certainly, madam. I’ll tell him at once,” was the 
reply. 

Determined to enter the place, Lady Bassett re¬ 
quested her people to open the carriage door; and she 
was in the act of getting out, when Mr. Coyne appeared, 
a little oily, bustling man, with a good-humored, vulgar 
face liable to a subservient pucker: he wore it directly 
at sight of a fine woman, fine clothes, fine footmen, and 
fine horses. 

“Mr. Coyne, I believe,” said Lady Bassett, with a fas¬ 
cinating smile. 

“ At your service, madam.” 

“ May I have a word in private with you, sir ? ” 

“ Certainly, madam.” 

“We have come a long way. May the horses be fed?” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


239 


“ I am afraid/’ said the little man apologetically, “ I 
must ask you to send them to the inn. It is close by.” 

“By all means.” (To one of the outriders) “ You will 
wait here for orders.” 

Mary Wells had been already instructed to wait in the 
hall and look out sharp for Sir Charles’s keeper and 
nurse, and tell them her ladyship wanted to speak to 
them privately, and it would be money in their way. 

Lady Bassett, closeted with Mr. Coyne, began first to 
congratulate herself. 

“ Mr. Bassett,” said she, “ is no friend of mine, but he 
has done me a kindness in sending Sir Charles here, 
when he might have sent him to some place where he 
might have been made worse instead of better. Here, I 
conclude, gentlemen of your ability will soon cure his 
trifling disorder, will you not ? ” 

“ I have good hopes, your ladyship: he is better 
to-day.” 

“ Now, I dare say, you could tell me to a month when 
he will be cured.” 

“ Oh, your ladyship exaggerates my skill too much.” 

“Three months?” 

“ That is a short time to give us; but your ladyship 
may rely on it we will do our best.” 

“ Will you ? Then I have no fear of the result. Oh, 
by the by, Hr. Willis wanted me to take a message to 
you, Mr. Coyne. He knows you, by reputation.” 

“Indeed! Beally, I was not aware that my hum¬ 
ble”— 

« Then you are better known than you, in your mod¬ 
esty, supposed. Let me see: what was the message ? 
Oh, it was a peculiarity in Sir Charles he wished you to 
know. Dr. Willis has attended him from a boy, and he 
wished me to tell you that morphia and other sedatives 
have some very bad effects on him. I told Dr. Willis 


240 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


you would probably find that and everything else out, 
without a hint from him or any one else.” 

“ Yes, but I will make a note of it, for all that.” 

“ That is very kind of you. It will flatter the doctor, 
the more so as he has so high an opinion of you. But 
now, Mr. Coyne, I suppose if I am very good, and promise 
to soothe him, and not excite him, I may see my husband 
to-day ? ” 

“Certainly, madam. You have an order from the 
person who ” — 

“ I forgot to bring it with me. I relied on your 
humanity.” 

“ That is unfortunate. I am afraid I must not ” — he 
hesitated, looked very uncomfortable, and said he would 
consult Mr. Appleton; then, suddenly puckering his 
face into obsequiousness, “Would your ladyship like to 
inspect some of our arrangements for the comfort of our 
patients ? ” 

Lady Bassett would have declined the proposal, but 
for the singular play of countenance; she was herself all 
eye and mind, so she said, gravely, “I shall be very 
happy, sir.” 

Mr. Coyne then led the way, and showed her a large 
sitting-room, where some ladies were seated at different 
occupations and amusements. They kept more apart 
from each other than ladies do in general; but this was 
the only sign a far more experienced observer than Lady 
Bassett could have discovered, the nurses having sprung 
from authoritative into unobtrusive positions at the sound 
of Mr. Coyne’s footsteps outside. 

“ What! ” said Lady Bassett, “ are all these ladies ” — 
She hesitated. 

“ Every one,” said Mr. Coyne; “ and some incurably.” 

“ Oh, please let us retire; I have no right to gratify 
my curiosity. Poor things, they don’t seem unhappy.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


241 


“Unhappy!” said Mr. Coyne. “We don’t allow un¬ 
happiness here; our doctor is too fond of them; he is 
always contriving something to please them.” 

At this moment Lady Bassett looked up, and saw a 
woman watching her over the rail of a corridor on the 
first floor. She recognized the face directly ; the woman 
made her a rapid signal, and then disappeared into one 
of the rooms. 

“Would there be any objection to our going up-stairs, 
Mr. Coyne ? ” said Lady Bassett, with a calm voice, and 
a heart thumping violently. 

“ Oh, none whatever. I’ll conduct you; but there I 
am afraid I must leave you for a time.” 

He showed her up-stairs, blew a whistle, handed her 
over to an attendant, and bowed and smiled himself 
away grotesquely. 

Jones was the very keeper she had feed last visit. 
She flushed with joy at sight of bull-necked burly 
Jones. “ Oh, Mr. Jones ! ” said she, putting her hands 
together, with a look that might have melted a hang¬ 
man. 

Jones winked, and watched Mr. Coyne out of sight. 
“ I have seen your ladyship’s maid,” said he confi¬ 
dentially. “ It is all right; Mr. Coyne have got the 
blinkers on. Only pass me your word not to excite 
him.” 

“Oh, no, sir, I will soothe him.” And she trembled 
all over. 

“ Sally! ” cried Jones. 

The nurse came out of a room, and held the door ajar; 
she whispered, “ I have prepared him, madam; he is all 
right.” 

Lady Bassett, by a great effort, kept her feet from 
rushing, her heart from crying out with joy, and she 
entered the room. Sally closed the door like a shot, 

16 


242 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


with a delicacy one would hardly have given her credit 
for, to judge from appearances. 

Sir Charles stood in the middle of the room, beaming 
to receive her, but restraining himself. They met; he 
held her to his heart; she wept for joy and grief upon 
his neck. Neither spoke for a long time. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


243 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

They were seated hand in hand, comparing notes and 
comforting each other. Then Lady Bassett met with a 
great surprise: forgetting, or rather not realizing, Sir 
Charles’s sex and character, she began with a heavy heart 
to play the consoler; hut, after he had embraced her 
many times with tender rapture, and thanked God for 
the sight of her, lo and behold, this doughty baronet 
claimed his rights of manhood, and, in spite of his 
capture, his incarceration, and his malady, set to work 
to console her, instead of lying down to be consoled. 

“ My darling Bella,” said he, “ don’t you make a moun¬ 
tain of a mole-hill. The moment you told me I should 
be a father, I began to get better, and to laugh at 
Richard Bassett’s malice. Of course I was terribly 
knocked over at first, by being captured like a felon and 
clapped under lock and key; but I am getting over that. 
My head gets muddled once a day, that is all. They 
gave me some poison the first day, that made me drunk 
twelve hours after; but they have not repeated it.” 

“ Oh! ” cried Lady Bassett, “ then don’t let me lose a 
moment. How could I forget ? ” She opened the door, 
and called in Mr. Jones and the nurse. 

“Mr. Jones,” said she, “the first day my husband 
came here, Mr. Salter gave him a sedative, or something, 
and it made him much worse.” 

“It always do make ’em worse,” said Jones bluntly. 

“ Then why did he give it ? ” 

“ Out o’ book, ma’am. His sort don’t see how the medi¬ 
cines work; but we do, as are always about the patient.” 


244 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“Mr. Jones,” said Lady Bassett, “if Mr. Salter, or 
anybody prescribes, it is you who administer the medi¬ 
cine.” 

Jones assented with a wink. Winking was his foible, 
as puckering of the face was Coyne’s. 

“ Should you be offended if I were to offer you and 
the nurse ten guineas a month to pretend you had given 
him Mr. Salter’s medicines, and not do it ? ” 

“ Oh, that is not much to do for a gentleman like Sir 
Charles,” said Jones. “But I didn’t ought to take so 
much money for that. To be sure I suppose the lady 
won’t miss it.” 

“Don’t you be a donkey, Jones,” said Sir Charles, 
cutting short his hypocrisy. “ Take whatever you can 
get; only earn it.” 

“ Oh, what I takes I earns.” 

“ Of course,” said Sir Charles. “ So that is settled. 
You have got to physic those flower-pots instead of me, 
that is all.” 

The view of things tickled Jones so, that he roared 
with laughter. However, he recollected himself all of a 
sudden, and stopped with ludicrous abruptness. 

He said to Lady Bassett with homely kindness, “ You 
go home comfortable, my lady : you have taken the stick 
by the right end.” He then had the good sense to retire 
from the room. 

Then Lady Bassett told Sir Charles of her visit to 
London, and her calling on Mr. Bolfe. 

He looked blank at his wife calling on a bachelor; 
but her description of the man, his age, and his sim¬ 
plicity, reconciled him to that; and, when she told him 
the plan and order of campaign Mr. Bolfe had given her, 
he approved it very earnestly. 

He fastened in particular on something that Mr. Bolfe 
had dwelt lightly on. “ Dear as the sight of you is to 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


245 


me, sweet as the sound of your loved voice is to my ears 
and to my heart, I would rather not see you again until 
our hopes are realized than jeopardize that .” Lady 
Bassett sighed; for this seemed rather morbid. Sir 
Charles went on, “ So think of your own health first, and 
avoid agitations. I am tormented with fear, lest that 
monster should take advantage of my absence to molest 
you; if he does, leave Huntercombe. Yes, leave it; go 
to London — go, even for my sake; my health and happi¬ 
ness depend on you; they cannot be much affected by 
anything that happens here. 1 Stone walls do not a 
prison make, nor iron bars a cage/ ” 

Lady Bassett promised, but said she could not keep 
away from him, and he must often write to her. She 
gave him Bolfe’s formula, and told him all letters would 
pass that praised the asylum. 

Sir Charles made a wry face. 

Lady Bassett’s wrist went round his neck in a moment. 

“ Oh, Charles dear; for my sake — hold a little, little 
candle to the devil. Mr. Kolfe says we must. Oblige 
me in this — I am not so noble as you — and then I’ll be 
very good and obedient in what your heart is set upon.” 

At last Sir Charles consented. 

Then they made haste and told each other everything 
that had happened, and it was late in the afternoon 
before they parted. 

Lady Bassett controlled her tears at parting as well as 
she could. 

Mr. Coyne had slyly hid himself, but he emerged when 
she came down to the carriage; and she shook him warmly 
by the hand, and he bowed at the door incessantly, 
with his face all in a pucker, till the cavalcade dashed 
away. 


246 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTEK XXV. 

Lady Bassett timed her next visit so that she found 
Dr. Suaby at home. 

He received her kindly, and showed himself a master; 
told her Sir Charles’s was a mixed case, in which the 
fall, the fit, and a morbid desire for offspring had all 
played their parts. 

He hoped a speedy cure, but said he counted on her 
assistance. There was no doubt what he meant. 

“Oh, for one thing,” he said to her rather slyly, 
“ Coyne tells me you have been good enough to supply 
us with a hint as to his treatment; sedatives are opposed 
to his idiosyncrasy.” 

Lady Bassett blushed high, and said something about 
Dr. Willis. 

“ Oh, you are quite right, you and Dr. Willis; only 
you are not so very conversant with that idiosyncrasy; 
why have you let him smoke twenty cigars every day of 
his life ? The brain is accessible by other roads than 
the stomach. Well, we have got him down to four 
cigars, and, in a month, we will have him down to two. 
The effect of that, and exercise, and simple food, and the 
absence of powerful excitements — you will see. Do 
your part,” said he gayly, “ we will do ours. He is the 
most interesting patient in the house, and born to adorn 
society, though by a concurrence of unhappy circum¬ 
stances he is separated from it for awhile.” 

She spent the whole afternoon with Sir Charles, and 
they dined together at the doctor’s private table, with 
one or two patients, who were touched, but showed no 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


247 


signs of it on that occasion ; for the good doctor really- 
acted like oil on the troubled waters. 

Sir Charles and Lady Bassett corresponded, and so 
kept their hearts up; but after Rolfe’s hint the corre¬ 
spondence was rather guarded. If these letters were 
read in the asylum, the curious would learn that Sir 
Charles was far more anxious about his wife’s condition 
than his own; but that these two patient persons were 
only waiting a certain near event to attack Richard Bas¬ 
sett with accumulating fury — that smouldering fire did 
not smoke by letter, but burnt deep in both their sore 
and heavy, but enduring, Anglo-Saxon hearts. 

Lady Bassett wrote to Mr. Rolfe, thanking him again 
for his advice, and telling him how it worked. 

She had a very short reply from that gentleman. 

But, about six weeks after her visit, he surprised her 
a little by writing of his own accord, and asking her for 
a formal introduction to Sir Charles Bassett, and begging 
her to back a request that Sir Charles would devote a 
leisure hour or two to correspondence with him, “ Not,” 
said he, “ on his private affairs, but on a matter of gen¬ 
eral interest. I want a few of his experiences and obser¬ 
vations in that place. I have the less scruple in asking 
it, that whatever takes him out of himself will be salutary.” 

Lady Bassett sent him the required introduction in 
such terms that Sir Charles at once consented to oblige 
his wife by obliging Mr. Rolfe. 

My dear Sir, — In compliance with your wish and Lady 
Bassett’s, I send you a few desultory remarks on what I see here. 

First. The lines, 

“ Great wits to madness nearly are allied, 

And thin partitions do their bonds divide,” 

are in my opinion exaggerated and untrue. Taking the peo¬ 
ple here as a guide, the insane in general appear to be people 
with very little brains and enormous egotism. 


248 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


My next observation is, that the women have far less imagin¬ 
ation than the men; they cannot even realize their own favor¬ 
ite delusions. For instance, here are two young ladies, the 
Virgin Mary and the Queen of England. How do they play 
their parts ? They sit aloof from all the rest with their noses 
in the air: but gauge their imaginations; go down on one 
knee, or both, and address them as a saint and a queen; they 
cannot say a word in accordance : yet they are cunning enough 
to see they cannot reply in character, so they will not utter a 
syllable to their adorers. They are like the shop-boys who go 
to a masquerade as Burleigh, or Walsingham, and, when you 
ask them who is Queen Bess’s favorite just now, blush, and 
look offended, and pass sulkily on. 

The same class of male lunatics can speak in character; and 
this observation has made me doubt whether philosophers are 
not mistaken in saying that women generally have more im¬ 
agination than men. I suspect they have infinitely less ; and I 
believe their great love of novels, which has been set down 
to imagination, arises mainly from their want of it. You 
writers of novels supply that defect for them, by a pictorial 
style, by an infinity of minute details, and petty aids to realiz¬ 
ing, all which an imaginative reader can do for himself on 
reading a bare narrative of sterling facts and incidents. 

I find a monotony in madness; so many have inspirations, 
see phantoms, are the victims of vast conspiracies (principali¬ 
ties and powers combined against a fly) ; their food is poisoned, 
their wine is drugged, etc., etc. 

These, I think, are all forms of that morbid egotism which 
is at the bottom of insanity. So is their antipathy for each 
other. They keep apart: because a madman is all self, and 
his talk is all self; thus egotisms clash, and an antipathy arises ; 
yet it is not, I think, pure antipathy, though so regarded, but 
a mere form of their boundless egotism. 

If, in visiting an asylum, you see two or three different 
patients button-hole a fourth, and pour their grievances into 
a listening ear, you may safely suspect Number four of —sanity. 

On the whole, I think the doctor himself, and one of his 
attendants, and Jones a keeper, have more solid eccentricity 
and variety about them than most of the patients. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


249 


Extract from letter two, written about a fortnight 
later : 

Some insane persons have a way of couching their nonsense 
in language that sounds rational, and has a false air of logical 
connection. Their periods seem stolen from sensible books, 
and forcibly fitted to incongruous “ bosh.” By this means the 
ear is confused; and a slow hearer might fancy he was listen¬ 
ing to sense. 

I have secured you one example of this. You must know 
that in the evening I sometimes collect a few together, and try 
to get them to tell their stories. Little comes of it, in general, 
but interruptions. But, one night, a melancholy bagman re¬ 
sponded in good set terms, and all in a moment; one would 
have thought I had put a torch to a barrel of powder, he went 
off so quickly — in this style: 

“You ask my story: it is briefly told. Initiated in com¬ 
merce from my earliest years, and travelled in the cotton trade. 
As representative of a large house in Manchester, I visited the 
United States. Unfortunately for me, that country was then 
the chosen abode of spirits ; the very air was thick, and hum¬ 
ming with supernaturalia. Ere long, spirit-voices whispered 
in my ear, and suggested pious aspirations at first: that was a 
blind, no doubt; for very soon they went on to insinuate things 
profane and indelicate, and urged me to deliver them in mixed 
companies. I forbore with difficulty, restrained by the early 
lessons of a pious mother, and a disinclination to be kicked 
down-stairs or flung out o’ window. 

“ I consulted a friend, a native of the country; he said, in 
its beautiful Doric, ‘ Old oss, I reckon you’d better change the 
air.’ I grasped his hand, muttered a blessing, and sailed for 
England. 

“ On ocean’s peaceful bosom the annoyance ceased. But, 
under this deceitful calm, fresh dangers brooded. Two doc¬ 
tors had stolen into the ship, unseen by human eye, and bided 
their time. Unable to act at sea, owing to the combined effect 
of wind and current, they concealed themselves on deck under 
a black tarpaulin — that is to say, it had been black, but wind 
and weather had reduced it to a dirty brown — and there, adopt- 


250 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


ing for the occasion the habits of the dormouse, the bear, the 
caterpillar, and other ephemeral productions, they lay torpid. 
But the moment the vessel touched the quay, profiting by the 
commotion, they emerged and signed certificates with chalk on 
my portmanteau; then vanished in the crowd. The custom¬ 
house read the certificates, and seized my luggage as contra¬ 
band. I was too old a traveller to leave my luggage; so then 
they seized me, and sent us both down here.” (With sudden 
and short-lived fury) “ That old hell-hound at the lodge asked 
them where I was booked for. ‘ For the whole journey,’ said 
a sepulchral voice unseen. That means the grave, my boys, 
the silent grave.” 

Notwithstanding this stern decree, Suaby expects to turn 
him out cured in a few months. 

Miss Wieland, a very pretty girl, put her arm in mine, and 
drew me mysteriously apart. “ So you are collecting the vil- 
lanies,” said she, sotLo voce. “It will take you all your time. 
I’ll tell you mine. There’s a hideous old man wants me to 
marry him; and I won’t. And he has put me in here, and 
keeps me prisoner, till I will. They are all on his side, espe¬ 
cially that sanctified old guy Suaby. They drug my wine; 
they stupefy me; they give me things to make me naughty 
and tipsy: but it is no use. I never will marry that old goat 
— that for his money and him — I’ll die first.” 

Of course my blood boiled; but I asked my nurse, Sally, 
and she assured me there was not one atom of truth in any 
part of the story, “ The young lady was put in here by her 
mother; none too soon, neither.” I asked her what she meant. 
“ Why, she came here with her throat cut, and strapping on it. 
She is a suicidal.” 

This correspondence led eventually to some unexpected 
results; but I am obliged to interrupt it for a time, while 
I deal with a distinct series of events, which began about 
five weeks after Lady Bassett’s visit to Mr. Bolfe, and 
will carry the reader forward beyond the date we have 
now arrived at. 

It was the little dining-room at Highmore: a low room 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


251 


of modest size, plainly furnished. An enormous fire¬ 
place, paved with plain tiles, on which were placed iron 
dogs; only wood and roots were burned in this room. 

Mrs. Bassett had just been packed off to bed by mari¬ 
tal authority: Bassett and Wheeler sat smoking pipes, 
and sipping whiskey and water. Bassett professed to 
like the smell of peat smoke in whiskey; what he really 
liked was the price. 

After a few silent whiffs, said Bassett, “ I didn’t think 
they would take it so quietly; did you ? ” 

“Well, I really did not. But, after all, what can they 
do ? They are evidently afraid to go to the Court of 
Chancery, and ask for a jury in the asylum, and what 
else can they do ? ” 

“ Humph! They might arrange an escape, and hide 
him for fourteen days; then, we could not recapture him 
without fresh certificates ; could we ? ” 

“Certainly not.” 

“And the doors would be too well guarded: not a 
crack for two doctors to creep in at.” 

“You go too fast. You know the law from me ; and 
you are a daring man that would try this sort of thing. 
But a timid woman, advised by a respectable muff like 
Oldfield! They will never dream of such a thing.” 

“ Oldfield is not her head man. She has got another 
adviser, and he is the very man to do something plucky.” 

“ I don’t know who you mean.” 

“ Why, her lover, to be sure.” 

“ Her lover ? Lady Bassett’s lover! ” 

“ Ay, the young parson.” 

Wheeler smiled satirically. “ You certainly are a 
good hater. Nothing is too bad for those you don’t 
like. If that Lady Bassett is not a true wife, where 
will you find one ? ” 

“ She is the most deceitful jade in England.” 

“Oh! oh!” 


252 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Ah, you may sneer! So you have forgotten how she 
outwitted us. Did the devil himself ever do a cunninger 
thing than that ? — tempting a fellow into a correspond¬ 
ence that seemed a piece of folly on her part, yet it was 
a deep, diabolical trick to get at my handwriting. Did 
you see her game ? No more than I did. You chuckled 
at her writing letters to the plaintiff pendente lite. We 
were both children, setting our wits against a woman’s. 
I tell you I dread her, especially when I see her so 
unnaturally quiet, after what we have done. When you 
hook a large salmon, and he makes a great commotion, 
but all of a sudden lies like a stone, be on your guard ; 
he means mischief.” 

“ Well,” said Wheeler, “ this is all very true; but you 
have strayed from the point. What makes you think 
she has an improper attachment ? ” 

“ Is it so very unnatural ? He is the handsomest 
fellow about; she is the loveliest woman; he is dark; 
she is fair; and they are thrown together by circum¬ 
stances. Another thing: I have always understood that 
women admire the qualities they don’t possess them¬ 
selves, — strength, for instance. Now, this parson is a 
Hercules. He took Sir Charles up like a boy, and carried 
him in his arms all the way from where he had the fit. 
Lady Bassett walked beside them. Rely on it, a woman 
does not see one man carry another so without making a 
comparison in favor of the strong and against the weak. 
But what am I talking about ? They walk like lovers, 
those two.” 

“ What! hand in hand ? he ! he ! ” 

“ No, side by side; but yet like lovers for all that.” 

“You must have a good eye.” 

“ I have a good opera-glass.” 

Mr. Wheeler smoked in silence. 

“ Well, but,” said he, after a pause, “ if this is so, all the 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


253 


better for you. Don’t you see that the lover will never 
really help her to get the husband out of confinement ? 
It is not in the nature of things. He may struggle with 
his own conscience a bit, being a clergyman; but he 
won’t go too far: he won’t break the law to get Sir 
Charles home, and so end these charming duets with his 
lady-love.” 

“ By Jove, you are right! ” cried Bassett, convinced 
in his turn. “I say, old fellow, two heads are better 
than one. I think we have got the clew between us. 
Yes, by heaven! it is so; for the carriage used to be out 
twice a week, but now she only goes about once in ten 
days. By and by it will be once a fortnight; then, once 
a month ; and the black-eyed rector will preach patience 
and resignation. Oh, it was a master-stroke clapping 
him in that asylum. All we have got to do now is to 
let well alone. When she is over head and ears in love 
with Angelo, she will come to easy terms with us, and 
so I’ll move across the way. I shall never be happy till 
I live at Huntercombe, and administer the estate.” 

The maid-servant brought him a note, and said it was 
from her mistress. Bassett took it rather contemptu¬ 
ously, and said, “ The little woman is always in a fidget 
now when you come here. She is all for peace.” He 
read the letter. It ran thus : — 

Dearest Richard, — I implore you to do nothing more to 
hurt Sir Charles. It is wicked, and it’s useless. God has had 
pity on Lady Bassett, and have you pity on her, too. Jane 
has just heard it from one of the Huntercombe servants. 

“ What does she mean with her ‘ it’s ’ ? Why, surely 
— read it, you.” 

They looked at each other, in doubt and amazement, 
for some time. Then Richard Bassett rushed up-stairs, 
and had a few hasty words with his wife. 


254 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


She told him her news in plainer English, and renewed 
her mild entreaties. He turned his back on her in the 
middle. He went out into the nursery, and looked at 
his child. The little fellow, a beautiful boy, slept the 
placid sleep of infancy. He leaned over him, and kissed 
him, and went down to the dining-room. 

His feet came tramp, tramp, very slowly, and, when 
he opened the door, Mr. Wheeler was startled at the 
change in his appearance. He was pale, and his counte¬ 
nance had fallen. 

“ Why, what is the matter ? ” said Wheeler. 

“ She has done us. Ah, I was wiser than you; I feared 
her. It is the same thing over again: a woman against 
two children. This shows how strong she is; you can’t 
realize what she has done, even when you see it. An 
heir was wanted to those estates. Love cried out for 
one. Hate cried out for one. Nature denied one. She 
has cut the Gordian knot; cut it as boldly as the lowest 
woman in Huntercombe would have cut it, under such a 
terrible temptation.” 

“ Oh, for shame ! ” 

“Think, and use your eyes.” 

“My eyes have seen the lady. I think I see her now, 
kneeling like an angel over her husband, and pitying 
him for having knocked me down. I say her only lover 
is her husband.” 

“ Oh, that was a long time ago ! Time brings changes. 
You can’t take the eyes out of my head.” 

“ Suppose it should be only a false alarm ? ” 

“ Is that likely ? However, I will learn. Whether it 
is or not, that child shall never rob mine of Bassett and 
Huntercombe. Anything is fair against such a woman.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


255 


CHAPTER XXYI. 

That very night, after Wheeler had gone home, Rich¬ 
ard Bassett wrote a cajoling letter to Mary Wells, asking 
her to meet him at the old place. 

When the girl got this letter, she felt a little faint for 
a moment; but she knew the man, his treachery, and his 
hard egotism and selfishness, so well, that she tossed the 
letter aside, and resolved to take no notice. Her trust 
was all in her mistress, for whom, indeed, she had more 
real affection than for any living creature. As for 
Richard Bassett, she absolutely detested him. 

As the day wore on she took another view of matters : 
her deceiver was the enemy of her mistress. She might 
do her a service by going to this rendezvous, might learn 
something from him, and use it against him. 

So she went to the rendezvous, with a heart full of 
bitter hate. 

Bassett, with all his assurance, could not begin his 
interrogatory all in a moment. He made a sort of 
apology: said he felt he had been unkind, and he had 
never been happy since he had deserted her. 

She cut that short. “ I have found a better than you,” 
said she. “ I am going to London very soon, to be 
married.” 

“ I am glad to hear it.” 

“ Ho doubt you are.” 

“ I mean, for your sake.” 

“For my sake ? You think as little of me as I do of 
you. Come, now, what do you want of me, — without a 
lie, if you can ? ” 


256 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ I wanted to see you, and talk to you, and hear your 
prospects.” 

“Well, I have told you.” And she pretended to be 
going. 

“ Don’t be in such a hurry. Tell us the news. Is it 
true that Lady Bassett is expected ” — 

“ Oh, that is no news ! ” 

“ It is to me.” 

“ ’Tain’t no news in our house. Why, we have known 
it for months.” 

This took away the man’s breath for a minute. 

At last he said with a great deal of intention, — 

“ Will it be fair or dark ? ” 

“ As God pleases.” 

“ I’ll bet you five pounds to one that it is dark.” 

Mary shrugged her shoulders contemptuously, as if 
these speculations were too childish for her. 

“ It’s my lady you want to talk about, is it ? I 
thought it was to make me a wedding-present.” 

He actually put his hand in his pocket, and gave her 
two sovereigns. She took them with a grim smile. 

He presumed on this to question her minutely. 

She submitted to the interrogatory. 

Only, as the questions were not always delicate, and 
the answer was invariably an untruth, it may be as well 
to pass over the rest of the dialogue. Suffice it to say 
that, whenever the girl saw the drift of a question she 
lied admirably ; and when she did not, still she lied upon 
principle ; it must be a good thing to deceive the enemy. 

Bichard Bassett was now perplexed, and saw himself 
in that very position which had so galled Lady Bassett 
six weeks or so before. He could not make any advan¬ 
tageous move, but was obliged to wait events. All he 
could do was to spy a little on Lady Bassett, and note 
how often she went to the asylum. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


257 


After many days’ watching he saw something new. 

Mr. Angelo was speaking to her with a good deal of 
warmth, when suddenly she started from him, and then 
turned round upon him in a very commanding attitude, 
and with prodigious fire. Angelo seemed then to ad¬ 
dress her very humbly, but she remained rigid. At last 
Angelo retired, and left her so; but he was no sooner 
out of sight than she dropped into a garden-seat, and, 
taking out her handkerchief, cried a long time. 

“ Why doesn’t the fool come back ? ” said Bassett, 
from his tower of observation. 

He related this incident to Wheeler, and it impressed 
that worthy more than all he had ever said before on the 
same subject. But in a day or two Wheeler, who was a 
great gossip, and picked up everything, came and told 
Bassett that the parson was looking out for a curate, 
and going to leave his living for a time, on the ground 
of health. 

“That is rather against your theory, Mr. Bassett,” 
said he. 

“Not a bit,” said Bassett. “On the contrary, that is 
just what these artful women do, who sacrifice virtue 
but cling all the more to reputation. I read French 
novels, my boy.” 

“ Find ’em instructive ? ” 

“Very. They cut deeper into human nature than our 
writers dare. Her turning away her lover now is just 
the act of what the French call a masterly woman — 
maitresse She has got rid of him to close the 

mouth of scandal; that is her game.” 

“Well,” said Wheeler, “you certainly are very in¬ 
genious, and so fortified in your opinions, that with you 
facts are no longer stubborn things ; you can twist them 
all your way. If he had stayed and buzzed about her 
while her husband was incarcerated, you would have 
17 


258 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


found her guilty. He goes to Eome and leaves her, and 
therefore you find her guilty. You would have made a 
fine hanging judge in the good old sanguinary times.” 

“ I use my eyes, my memory, and my reason. She is 
a monster of vice and deceit. Anything is fair against 
such a woman.” 

“I am sorry to hear you say that,” said Wheeler, be¬ 
coming grave rather suddenly. “ A woman is a woman ; 
and I tell you plainly I have gone pretty well to the end 
of my tether with you.” 

“ Abandon me then,” said Bassett, doggedly. “ I can 
go alone.” 

Wheeler was touched by this, and said, — 

“No, no; lam not the man to desert a friend — but 
pray do nothing rash; do nothing without consulting 
me.” 

Bassett made no reply. 

About a week after this, as Lady Bassett was walking 
sadly in her own garden, a great Newfoundland dog ran 
up to her without any warning, and put his paws almost 
on her shoulder. 

She screamed violently, and more than once, 

One or two windows flew open, and, amongst the 
women who put their heads out to see what was the 
matter, Mary Wells was the first. 

The owner of the dog instantly whistled, and the 
sportive animal ran to him; but Lady Bassett was a 
good deal scared, and went in holding her hand to her 
side. Mary Wells hurried to her assistance, and she 
cried a little from nervousness when the young woman 
came earnestly to her. 

“ Oh, Mary! he frightened me so. I did not see him 
coming.” 

“ Mr. Moss,” said Mary Wells, “ here’s a villain come 
and frightened my lady; go and shoot his dog, you and 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


259 


your son; and get the grooms, and fling him in the 
horse-pond directly.” 

“No!” said Lady Bassett, firmly. “You will see 
that he does not enter the house, that is all; should he 
attempt that, then you will use force for my protection. 
Mary, come to my room.” 

When they were together alone, Lady Bassett put 
both hands on the girl’s shoulders, and made her turn 
towards her. 

“ I think you love me, Mary ? ” said she, drinking the 
girl’s eyes with her own. 

“ Ah! that I do, my lady.” 

“ Why did you look so pale, and your eyes flash, and 
why did you incite those poor men to — it might have 
led to bloodshed.” 

“ It would; and that is what I wanted, my lady.” 

“Oh, Mary !” 

“ What, don’t you see ? ” 

“ No, no; I don’t want to think so; it might have 
been an accident. The poor dog meant no harm; it was 
his way of fawning, that was all.” 

“ The beast meant no harm, but the man did. He is 
worse than any beast that ever was born ; he is a cruel, 
cunning, selfish devil; and if I had been a man, he 
should never have got off alive.” 

“ But are you sure ? ” 

“ Quite. I was up-stairs, and saw it all.” 

This was not true — she had seen nothing till her mis¬ 
tress screamed. 

“ Then anything is fair against such a villain.” 

“ Of course is is.” 

“ Let me think.” 

She leaned her head upon her hand, and that intelli¬ 
gent face of hers quite shone with hard thought. 

At last, after long and intense thinking, she spoke. 


260 


A TEEKIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ I’ll teach you to be inhuman, Mr. Bichard Bassett,” 
said she slowly, and with a strange depth of resolution. 

Then Mary Wells and she put their heads together in 
close discussion; but now Lady Bassett took the lead, 
and revealed to her astonished adviser extraordinary and 
astounding qualities. 

They had driven her to bay, and that is a perilous 
game to play with such a woman. 

Mary Wells found herself a child compared with her 
mistress, now that the lady was driven to put out all her 
powers. 

The conversation lasted about two hours; in that time 
the whole campaign was settled. 




A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


261 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

Mary Wells, by order, went down in a loose morning 
wrapper her mistress had given her, and dined in the 
servants’ hall. She was welcomed with a sort of shout, 
half ironical; and the chief butler said, “Glad to see 
you come back to us, Miss Wells.” 

“ The same to you, sir,” said Mary, with more pert- 
ness than logic; “ which I’m only come to take leave; 
for to-morrow I go to London, on business.” 

“ La ! what’s the business, I wonder ? ” inquired a 
housemaid irreverentially. 

“ Well, my business is not your business, Jane. How¬ 
ever, if you want to know, I’m going to be married.” 

“ And none too soon,” whispered the kitchen-maid to a 
footman. 

“ Speak up, my dear,” said Mary. “ There’s nothing 
more vulgarer than whispering in company.” 

“ I said, 1 What will Bill Drake say to that ? 9 ” 

“ Bill Drake will say he was a goose not to make up 
his mind quicker. This will learn him beauty won’t 
wait for no man. If he cries when I am gone, you lend 
him your apron to wipe his eyes, and tell him women 
can’t abide shilly-shallying men.” 

“ That’s a hexcellent sentiment,” said John the foot¬ 
man, “ and a solemn warning it is ” — 

“ To all such as footmen be,” said Mary. 

“We writes it in the fly-leaf of our Bibles accord¬ 
ingly,” said John. 

“Ho, my man; write it somewhere where you’ll have 
a chance to read "it.” 


262 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


This caused a laugh, and when it was over, the butler, 
who did not feel strong enough to chaff a lady of this 
calibre, inquired obsequiously whether he might venture 
to ask who was the happy stranger to carry off such a 
prize. 

“ A civil question deserves a civil answer, Mr. Wright,” 
said Mary. “It is a sea-faring man — the mate of a 
ship. He have known me a few years longer than any 
man in these parts. Whenever he comes home from a 
voyage, he tells me what he has made, and asks me to 
marry him. I have said ‘No’ so many times, I’m sick 
and tired; so I have said ‘Yes’ for once in a way. 
Changes are lightsome, you know.” 

Thus airily did Mary Wells communicate her pros¬ 
pects, and next morning early was driven to the station; 
a cart had gone before with her luggage, which tor¬ 
mented the female servants terribly; for, instead of the 
droll little servant’s box, covered with paper, she had a 
large lady’s box, filled with linen and clothes by the 
liberality of Lady Bassett, and a covered basket, and an 
old carpet-bag, with some minor packages of an unintel¬ 
ligible character. Nor did she make any secret that she 
had money in both pockets; indeed she flaunted some 
notes before the groom, and told him none but her lady 
knew all she had done for Sir Charles. “But he is 
grateful, you see, and so is she.” 

She went off in the train, as gay as a lark; but she 
was no sooner out of sight than her face changed its 
whole expression, and she went up to London very grave 
and thoughtful. 

The travelling carriage was ordered at ten o’clock next 
day, and packed as for a journey. 

Lady Bassett took her housekeeper with her to the 
asylum. 

She had an interview with Sir Charles, and told him 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


263 


what Mr. Bassett had done, and the construction Mary 
Wells had put on it. 

Sir Charles turned pale with rage, and said he could 
no longer play the patient game. He must bribe a 
keeper, make his escape, and kill that villain. 

Lady Bassett was alarmed, and calmed it down. 

“ It was only a servant’s construction, and she might 
be wrong; but it frightened me terribly ; and I fear it is 
the beginning of a series of annoyances and encroach¬ 
ments ; and I have lost Mr. Angelo; he has gone to 
Italy. Even Mary Wells left me this morning, to be 
married. I think I know a way to turn all this against 
Mr. Bassett; but I will not say it, because I want to 
hear what you advise, dearest.” 

Sir Charles did not leave her long in doubt. He said, 
“ There is but one way: you must leave Huntercombe, 
and put yourself out of that miscreant’s way, until our 
child is born.” 

“That would not grieve me,” said Lady Bassett. 
“The place is odious to me, now you are not there. 
But what would censorious people say ? ” 

“ What could they say, except that you obeyed your 
husband ? ” 

“ Is it a command then, dearest ? ” 

“ It is a command; and, although you are free, and I 
am a prisoner, although you are still an ornament to 
society, and I pass for an outcast, still I expect you to 
obey me when I assume a husband’s authority. I have 
not taken the command of you quite so much as you 
used to say I must; but, on this occasion, I do. You 
will leave Huntercombe, and avoid that caitiff, until our 
child is born.” 

“ That ends all discussion,” said Lady Bassett. “ Oh, 
Charles, my only regret is that it costs me nothing to 
obey you. But when did it ever ? My king ! ” 


264 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


He had ordered her to do the very thing she wished 
to do. 

She now gave her housekeeper minute instructions, 
settled the board-wages of the whole establishment, and 
sent her home in the carriage, retaining her own boxes 
and packages at the inn. 

Kichard Bassett soon found out that Lady Bassett had 
left Huntercombe. He called on Wheeler, and told him. 
Wheeler suggested she had gone to be near her husband. 

“No,” said Bassett, “she has joined her lover. I 
wonder at our simplicity in believing that fellow was 
gone to Italy.” 

“ This is rich,” said Wheeler. “ A week ago, she was 
guilty, and a Machiavel in petticoats; for why ? she had 
quarrelled with her Angelo, and packed him off to Italy. 
Now she is guilty; and why ? because he is not gone to 
Italy — not that you know whether he is or not. You 
reason like a mule. As for me, I believe none of this 
nonsense —till you find them together.” 

“And that is just what I mean to do.” 

“We shall see.” 

“You will see.” 

Very soon after this, a country gentleman met Wheeler 
on market-day, and drew him aside to ask him a ques¬ 
tion. “ Do you advise Mr. Bichard Bassett, still ? ” 

« Yes.” 

“Did you set him to trespass on Lady Bassett’s lawn, 
and frighten her with a great dog, in the present state 
of her health ? ” 

“ Heaven forbid! This is the first I’ve heard* of such 
a thing.” 

“ I’m glad to hear you say that, Tom Wheeler. There, 
read that. Your client deserves to be flogged out of the 
county, sir.” And he pulled a printed paper out of his 
pocket. It was dated from the Boyal Hotel, Bath, and 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


265 


had been printed with blanks, as follows, but a lady’s 
hand had filled in the dates. 

“On the day of while I was walking alone 

in my garden, Mr. Richard Bassett, the person who has 
bereaved me by violence of my protector, came without leave 
into my private grounds, and brought a very large dog; it ran 
to me, and frightened me so that I nearly fainted with alarm. 
Mr. Bassett was aware of my condition. Next day I consulted 
my husband, and he ordered me to leave Huntercombe Hall, 
and put myself beyond the reach of trespassers and outrage. 

“ One motive has governed Mr. Bassett in all his acts, from 
his anonymous letter to me before my marriage—which I 
keep for your inspection, together with the proofs that he 
wrote it — to the barbarous seizure of my husband upon certi¬ 
ficates purchased beforehand, and this last act of violence, 
which has driven me from the county for a time. 

“Sir Charles and I have often been your hosts and your 
guests. We now ask you to watch our property and our legal 
rights, so long as through injustice and cruelty my husband is 
a prisoner, his wife a fugitive.” 

“ There,” said the gentleman, “ these papers are going 
all round the county.” 

Wheeler was most indignant, and said he had never 
been consulted, and had never advised a trespass. He 
begged a loan of the paper, and took it to Bassett’s that 
very same afternoon. 

“So you have been acting without advice,” said he, 
angrily; “and a fine mess you have made of it.” And, 
though not much given to violent wrath, he dashed the 
paper down on the table, and hurt his hand a little. 
Anger must be paid for, like other luxuries. 

Bassett read it, and was staggered a moment; but he 
soon recovered himself, and said, “What is the foolish 
woman talking about ? ” 

He then took a sheet of paper, and said he would soon 
give her a Roland for an Oliver. 


266 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Ay,” said Wheeler, grimly, “ let us see how you will 
put down the foolish woman. I’ll smoke a cigar in the 
garden, and recover my temper.” 

Richard Bassett’s retort ran thus : 

I never wrote an anonymous letter in my life; and, if I put 
restraint upon Sir Charles, it was done to protect the estate. 
Experienced physicians represented him homicidal and sui¬ 
cidal ; and I protected both Lady Bassett and himself by the 
act she has interpreted so harshly. 

As for her last grievance, it is imaginary. My dog is gentle 
as a lamb. I did not foresee Lady Bassett would be there, nor 
that the poor dog would run and welcome her. She is playing 
a comedy. The real truth is, a gentleman has left Hunter- 
combe whose company is necessary to her. She has gone to 
join him, and thrown the blame very adroitly upon 

Richard Bassett. 

When he had written this, Bassett ordered his dog¬ 
cart. 

Wheeler came in, read the letter, and said the last 
suggestion in it was a libel, and an indictable one into 
the bargain. 

“ What, if it is true — true to the letter ? ” 

“ Even then you would not be safe, unless you could 
prove it by disinterested witnesses.” 

“ Well, if I cannot, I consent to cut the sentence out. 
Excuse me one minute, I must put a few things in my 
carpet-bag.” 

“ What! going away ? ” 

“ Of course I am.” 

“ Better give me your address, then, in case anything 
turns up.” 

“If you were as sharp as you pass for, you would 
know my address — Royal Hotel, Bath, to be sure.” 

He left Wheeler staring, and was back in five minutes 
with his carpet-bag and wraps. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


267 


“ Wouldn’t to-morrow morning do for this wild-goose 
chase ? ” inquired Wheeler. 

“No,” said Richard; “I’m not such a fool. Catch 
me losing twelve hours. In that twelve hours they 
would shift their quarters. It is always so when a fool 
delays. I shall breakfast at the Royal Hotel, Bath.” 

The dog-cart came to the door as he spoke, and he 
rattled off to the railway. 

He managed to get to the Royal Hotel, Bath, at 7 a.m., 
took a warm bath instead of bed, and then ordered 
breakfast; asked to see the visitors’ book, and wrote a 
false name; turned the leaves, and, to his delight, saw 
Lady Bassett’s name. 

But he could not find Mr. Angelo’s name in the book. 

He got hold of Boots and feed him liberally; then 
asked him if there was a handsome young parson there 
— very dark. 

Boots could not say there was. 

Then Bassett made up his mind that Angelo was at 
another hotel, or perhaps in lodgings out of prudence. 

“ Lady Bassett here still ? ” said he. 

Boots was not very sure; would inquire at the bar. 
Did inquire, and brought him word Lady Bassett had 
left for London yesterday morning. 

Bassett ground his teeth with vexation. 

Ho train to London for an hour and a half. He took 
a stroll through the town to fill up the time. 

How often, when a man abandons or remits his search 
for a time, fate sends in his way the very thing he is 
after, but has given up hunting just then! As he walked 
along the north side of a certain street, what should he 
see but the truly beautiful and remarkable eyes and eye¬ 
brows of Mr. Angelo shining from afar! 

That gentleman was standing, in a reverie, on the steps 
of a small hotel. 


268 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Bassett drew back at first, not to be seen; looking 
round, he saw he was at the door of a respectable house 
that let apartments; he hurried in, examined the drawing¬ 
room floor, took it for a week, paid in advance, and sent 
to the Boyal for his bag. 

He installed himself near the window, to await one of 
two things and act accordingly. If Angelo left the place 
he should go by the same train, and so catch the parties 
together; if the lady doubled back to Bath, or had only 
pretended to leave it, he should soon know that, by dili¬ 
gent watch and careful following. 

He wrote to Wheeler, to announce this first step 
towards success. 



A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


269 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Some days after this, Mr. Rolfe received a line from 
Lady Bassett, to say she was at the Adelphi Hotel in 
John Street. He put some letters into his pocket, and 
called on her directly. 

She received him warmly, and told him, more fully 
than she had by letter, how she had acted on his advice; 
then she told him of Richard Bassett’s last act, and 
showed him her retort. 

He knitted his brows at first over it, but said he thought 
her proclamation could do no harm. 

“ As a rule,” said he, “ I object to flicking with a lady’s 
whip when I am going to crush, but — yes — it is able, 
and gives you a good excuse for keeping out of the way 
of annoyances, till we strike the blow. And now I have 
something to consult you upon. May I read you some 
extracts from your husband’s letters to me ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” 

“ Forgive a novelist; but this is a new situation, read¬ 
ing a husband’s letters to his wife. However, I have a 
motive, and so I had in soliciting the correspondence 
with Sir Charles.” He then read her the letters that 
are already before the reader, and also the following 
extracts: — 

“Mr. Johnson, a broken tradesman, has some imagination, 
though not of a poetic kind; he is imbued with trade, and, in 
the daytime, exercises several, especially a butcher’s. When 
he sees any of us coming, he whips before the nearest door or 
gate, and sells meat. He sells it very cheap; the reason is, 
his friends allow him only a shilling or two in coppers, and, 


270 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


as every madman is the centre of the universe, he thinks that 
the prices of all commodities are regulated by the amount of 
specie in his pocket. This is his style — ‘ Come, buy, buy, 
choice mutton three farthings the carcass. Retail shop next 
door, ma’am. Jack, serve the lady. Bill, tell him he can send 
me home those twenty bullocks, at three halfpence each ’ — and 
so on. But at night he subsides into an auctioneer, and with 
knocking down lots whilst others are conversing, gets removed 
occasionally to a padded room; sometimes we humor him, and 
he sells us the furniture after a spirited competition, and debits 
the amounts, for cash is not abundant here. The other night, 
heated with business, he went on from the articles of furniture 
to the company, and put us all up in succession. Having a 
good many dislikes, he sometimes forgot the auctioneer in the 
man, and depreciated some lots so severely that they had to be 
passed; but he set Miss Wieland in a chair and descanted on 
her beauty, good temper, and other gifts, in terms florid enough 
for Robins, or any other poet. Sold for eighteen pounds, and 
to a lady. This lady had formed a violent attachment to Miss 
W., so next week they will be at daggers drawn. My turn 
came, and the auctioneer did me the honor to describe me as 
‘ the lot of the evening.’ He told the bidders to mind what 
they were about, they might never again be able to secure a 
live baronet at a moderate price, owing to the tightness of the 
money market. Well, sir, I was honored with bids from several 
ladies, but they were too timid and too honest to go beyond 
their means; my less scrupulous sex soared above these con¬ 
siderations, and I was knocked down for seventy-nine pounds 
fifteen shillings, amidst loud applause at the spirited result. 
My purchaser is a shopkeeper mad after gardening. Doctor 
Suaby has given him a plot to cultivate, and “he whispered in 
my ear, * The reason I went to a fancy price was, I can kill 
two birds with one stone with you. You’ll make a'very good 
statee stuck up among my flowers; and you can hallo, and 
keep those plaguy sparrows off.” 

“ Oh, what creatures for my darling to live amongst! ” 
cried Lady Bassett piteously. 

Mr. Rolfe stared and said, “ What, then, you are like 
all your sex — no sense of humor ? ” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


271 


“ Humor! when my husband is in misery an degra¬ 
dation.” 

“And don’t you see that the brave writer of these 
letters is steeled against misery, and above degradation ? 
Such men are not the mere sport of circumstances. Your 
husband carries a soul not to be quelled by three months 
in a well-ordered madhouse. But I will read no more, 
since what gives me satisfaction, gives you pain.” 

“ Oh, yes ! yes ! Don’t let me lose a word my husband 
has ever uttered.” 

“Well, I’ll go on; but I’m horribly discouraged.” 

“ I’m so sorry for that, sir. Please forgive me.” 

Mr. Kolfe read the next letter in date. 

“We are honored with one relic of antiquity, a Pythagorean. 
He has obliged me with his biography; he was, to use his own 
words, « engendered by the sun shining on a dunghill at his 
father’s door,’ and began his career as a flea; but his identity 
was, somehow, shifted to a boy of nine years old. He has had 
a long spell of humanity, and awaits the great change — which 
is to turn him to a bee. It will not find him unprepared; he 
has long practised humming in anticipation. A faithful friend, 
called Caffyn, used to visit him every week. Caffyn died last 
year, and the poor Pythagorean was very lonely and sad; but, 
two months ago, he detected his friend in the butcher’s horse, 
and is more than consoled, for he says, ‘ Caffyn comes six times 
a week now, instead of once,’ ” 

“Poor soul!” said Lady Bassett. “What a strange 
world for him to be living in! it seems like a dream.” 

“There is something stranger coming in this last 
letter.” 

“I have, at last, found one madman allied to Genius. It 
lias taken me a fortnight to master his delusion, and to write 
down the vocabulary he has invented to describe the strange 
monster of his imagination. All the words I write in Italics 
are his own, 


272 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“Mr. Williams says that a machine has been constructed 
for malignant purposes, which machine is an air-loom. It rivals 
the human machine in this, that it can operate either on mind 
or matter; it was invented, and is worked, by a gang of villains 
superlatively skilful in pneumatic chemistry, physiology, nervous 
influence, sympathy, and the higher metaphysic, men far beyond 
the immature science of the present era, which, indeed, is a 
favorite subject of their ridicule. 

“The gang are seven in number, but Williams has only 
seen the four highest; Bill, the King, a master of the art of 
magnetic impregnation; Jack, the schoolmaster, the shorthand 
writer of the gang; Sir Archy, Chief Liar to the Association; 
and the glove-woman, so called from her always wearing cotton 
mittens. This personage has never been known to speak to any 
one. 

“The materials used in the air-loom by these pneumatic 
adepts are infinite; but principally ejfluvia of certain metals, 
poisons, soporific scents, etc. 

“ The principal effects are — 

“ 1st. Event-working. —This is done by magnetic manipu¬ 
lation of kings, emperors, prime ministers, and others ; so that, 
while the world is fearing and admiring them, they are, in 
reality, mere puppets played by the workers of the air-loom. 

“2 d. Cutting Soul from Sense. — This is done by diffusing 
the magnetic warp from the root of the nose under the base of the 
skull, till it forms a veil; so that the sentiments of the heart can 
have no communication with the operations of the intellect. 

“3 d. Kiting. — As boys raise a kite in the air, so the air- 
loom can lift an idea into the brain, where it floats and undu¬ 
lates for hours together. The victim cannot get rid of the ideas 
so insinuated. 

“4 th. Lobster-cracking. — An external pressure of the mag¬ 
netic atmosphere surrounding the person assailed. Williams 
has been so operated on, and says he felt as if he was grasped 
by an enormous pair of nut-crackers with teeth, and subjected 
to a piercing pressure, which he still remembers with horror. 
Death sometimes results from Lobster-cracking. 

“5 th. Lengthening the Brain. — As the cylindrical mirror 
lengthens the countenance, so these assailants find means to 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 273 

elongate the brain. This distorts the ideas, and subjects the 
most serious are made silly and ridiculous. 

“ 6th. Thought-making. —While one of these villains sucks 
at the brains of the assailed, and extracts his existing senti¬ 
ments, another will press into the vacuum ideas very different 
from his real thoughts. Thus his mind is physically enslaved.” 

“ Then Sir Charles goes on to say, — 

“Poor Mr. Williams seems to me an inventor wasted. I 
thought I would try and reason him out of his delusion. 
I asked if he had ever seen this gang and their machine. 

“ He said yes, they operated on him this morning. * Then 
show them me, 1 said I. ‘ Young man,” said he satirically, 
‘ do you think these assassins, and their diabolical machine, 
would be allowed to go on, if they could be laid hands on so 
easily ? The gang are fertile in disguise: the machine oper¬ 
ates at considerable distances. 1 

“To drive him into a corner, I said, ‘Will you give me 
a drawing of it ? 1 He seemed to hesitate, so I said, ‘ If you 
cannot draw it, you never saw it, and never will. 1 He assented 
to that, and I was vain enough to think I had staggered him; 
but yesterday he produced the enclosed sketch and explana¬ 
tion. After this I sadly fear he is incurable. 

“There are three sane patients in this asylum besides 
myself. I will tell you their stories when you come here, 
which I hope will be soon; for the time agreed on draws near, 
and my patience and self-control are sorely tried, as day after 
day rolls by, and sees me still in a madhouse.” 


18 


274 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


































































































































































































































































































A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION, 


275 


EXPLANATION OF THE AIR-LOOM. 

a, a. Top of the apparatus, called by the assassins “Air-Loom 

Machine,” being as a large table. 

b, b. The metals which the workers grasp to deaden the sympathy. 

c. The place where the pneumaticians sit to work the loom. 

d. Something like pianoforte keys, which open the tube-valves 

within the air-loom, to spread or feed the warp of magnetic 
fluid. 

e, e. Levers, by the management of which the assailed is wrenched, 
stagnated, and lobster-cracked, etc. 

G. Seemingly drawers, etc, Probably they contain crude mate¬ 

rials. 

H. The cluster of upright open tubes or cylinders, and by the 

assassins termed their musical-glasses, which I perceived 
when they were endeavoring to burst my person by exploding 
the interior of the coating of my trunk. 

I. Apparatus standing on air-loom; use unknown to me. 

O. The barrels for supplying the “ famous goose-neck retorts ” 
with distilled gases, as well poisoned as magnetic. 

S. The warp of magnetic fluid, reaching between the person im¬ 
pregnated with such fluid and the air-loom magnets by which 
it is prepared; which being a multiplicity of fine wires of 
fluids form the sympathetic streams of attraction, repulsion, 
etc., as putting the different poles of the common magnet to 
objects operates, and by which sympathetic warps the assailed 
object is affected at pleasure; as by opening a vitriolic gas 
valve he becomes tortured by the fluid within him becoming 
agitated with the corrosion through all his frame; and so on 
in all their various modes of attacking the human body and 
mind. I never saw this warp, but the assassins admit that 
when heated it becomes luminous and visible to them for 
some yards from the loom, as a weakish rainbow. 

X. The assailed person, at the distance of several hundred feet. 

Y. One of the gang working the air-loom, and in the act of lobster¬ 

cracking the person represented by the figure X. 

“There, Lady Bassett/’ said Mr. Rolfe; “and now 
for my motive in reading these letters. Sir Charles 
may still have a crotchet, an inordinate desire for an 
heir; but, even if he has, the writer of these letters 
has nothing to fear from any jury; and therefore I am 
now ready to act. I propose to go down to the asylum 
to-morrow, and get him out as quickly as I can.” 


276 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Lady Bassett uttered an ejaculation of joy. Then 
she turned suddenly pale, and her countenance fell. 
She said nothing. 

Mr. Bolfe was surprised at this, since, at their last 
meeting, she was writhing at her inaction. He began 
to puzzle himself. She watched him keenly. 

He thought to himself, “Perhaps she dreads the 
excitement of meeting — for herself.” 

At last Lady Bassett asked him how long it would 
take to liberate Sir Charles. 

“Not quite a week, if Bichard Bassett is well advised. 
If he fights desperately, it may take a fortnight. In 
any case, I don’t leave the work an hour till it is done. 
I can delay, and I can fight: but I never mix the two. 
Come, Lady Bassett, there is something on your mind 
you don’t like to say. Well, what does it matter ? I 
will pack my bag, and write to Dr. Suaby that he may 
expect me soon: but I will wait till I get a line from 
you to go ahead. Then I’ll go down that instant, and 
do the work.” 

This proposal was clearly agreeable to Lady Bassett, 
and she thanked him. 

“ You need not waste words over it,” said he. “Write 
one word ‘ Act ! ’ That will be the shortest letter you 
ever wrote.” 

The rest of the conversation is not worth recording. 

Mr. Bolfe instructed a young solicitor minutely, packed 
his bag, and waited. 

But day after day went by, and the order never came 
to act. 

Mr. Bolfe was surprised at this, and began to ask 
himself whether he could have been deceived in this 
lady’s affection for her husband. But he rejected that. 
Then he asked himself whether it might have cooled. 
He had known a very short incarceration produce that 


A TEEEIBLE TEMPTATION. 277 

fatal effect. Both husband and wife interested him, and 
he began to get irritated at the delay. 

Sir Charles’s letters made him think they had already 
wasted time. 

At last a letter came from Gloucester Place: 

Will my kind friend now act ? 

Gratefully, 

Bella Bassett. 

Mr. Eolfe, upon this, cast his discontent to the winds, 
and started for Bellevue House. 

On the evening of that day, a surgeon called Bodding- 
ton was drinking tea with his wife, and they were talk¬ 
ing rather disconsolately ; for he had left a fair business 
in the country, and, though a gentleman of undoubted 
skill, was making his way very slowly in London. 

The conversation was agreeably interrupted by a loud 
knock at the door. 

A woman had come to say that he was wanted that 
moment, for a lady of title in Gloucester Place hard by. 

“I will come,” said he, with admirably affected in¬ 
difference ; and, as soon as the woman was out of sight, 
husband and wife embraced each other. 

“ Pray God it may all go well, for your sake and hers, 
poor lady.” 

Mr. Boddington hurried to the number in Gloucester 
place. The door was open by the charwoman. 

He asked her with some doubt, if that was the house. 

The woman said yes, and she believed it was a sur¬ 
prise. The lady was from the country, and was looking 
out for some servants. 

This colloquy was interrupted by an intelligent maid, 
who asked over the banisters if that was the medical 
man; and, on the woman’s saying it was, begged him to 
step up-stairs at once. 


278 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


He found his patient attended only by her maid, but 
she was all discretion and intelligence. She said he had 
only to direct her, she would do anything for her dear 
mistress. 

Mr. Boddington said a single zealous and intelligent 
woman, who could obey orders, was as good as a number 
or better. 

He then went gently to the bedside, and his experi¬ 
ence told him at once that the patient was in labor. 

He told the attendant so, and gave her his directions. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


279 


CHAPTEE XXIX. 

Mr. Eolfe reached Bellevue House in time to make a 
hasty toilet, and dine with Dr. Suaby in his private 
apartments. 

The other guests were Sir Charles Bassett, Mr. Hyam, 
a meek, sorrowful patient — an Exquisite — and Miss 
YVieland. 

Dr. Suaby introduced him to everybody but the Ex¬ 
quisite. 

Mr. Eolfe said Sir Charles Bassett and he were corre¬ 
spondents. 

“ So I hear. He tells you the secrets of the prison- 
house, eh ? ” 

“The humors of the place, you mean.” 

“ Yes, he has a good eye for character. I suppose he 
has dissected me, along with the rest ? ” 

“Ho, no; he has only dealt with the minor eccentrici¬ 
ties. His pen failed at you. ‘ You must come and see 
the doctor,’ he said. So here I am.” 

“ Oh,” said the doctor, “ if your wit and his are both 
to be levelled at me, I had better stop your mouths. 
Dinner! dinner! Sir Charles, will you take Miss Wieland ? 
Sorry we have not another lady to keep you company, 
madam.” 

“ Are you ? Then I’m not,” said the lady smartly. 

The dinner passed like any other, only Eolfe observed 
that Dr. Suaby took every opportunity of drawing the 
pluckless Mr. Hyam into conversation, and that he coldly 
ignored the Exquisite. 

“I have seen that young man about town, I think,” 
said Mr. Eolfe; “ where was it, I wonder ? ” 


280 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ The Argyll Booms, or the Casino, probably.” 

“ Thank you, doctor; oh, I forgot; you owed me one. 
He is no favorite of yours.” 

“ Certainly not. And I only invited him medicinally.” 

“ Medicinally ? That’s too deep for a layman.” 

“ To flirt with Miss Wieland. Flirting does her good.” 

“ Medicine embraces a wider range than I thought.” 

“No doubt. You are always talking about medicine; 
but you know very little, begging your pardon.” 

“ That is the theory of compensation; when you know 
very little about a thing, you must talk a good deal about 
it. Well, I’m here for instruction ; thirsting for it.” 

“ All the better; we’ll teach you to drink deep, ere you 
depart.” 

“ All right: but not of your favorite acetate of mor¬ 
phia ; because that is the draught that takes the reason 
prisoner.” 

“It’s no favorite of mine. Indeed, experience has 
taught me that all sedatives excite; if they soothe at 
first, they excite next day. My antidotes to mental 
excitement are packing in lukewarm water, and best of 
all, hard bodily exercise and the perspiration that follows 
it. To put it shortly — prolonged bodily excitement 
antidotes mental excitement.” 

“ I’ll take a note of that: it is the wisest thing I ever 
heard from any learned physician.” 

“Yet many a learned physician knows it. But you are 
a little prejudiced against the faculty.” 

“ Only in their business. They are delightful out of 
that. But, come now, nobody hears us—confess, the 
system which prescribes drugs, drugs, drugs, at every 
visit, and in every case, and does not give a severe 
selection of esculents the first place, but only the second 
or third, must be rotten at the core. Don’t yon despise 
a layman’s eye. All the professions want it.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


281 


“ Well, you are a writer; publish a book, call it 
‘Medicina Laici,’ and send me a copy.” 

“To slash in the Lancet? Well, I will: when novels 
cease to pay, and truth begins to.” 

In the course of the evening Mr. Bolfe drew Dr. 
Suaby apart, and said,— 

“ I must tell you frankly, I mean to relieve you of one 
of your inmates.” 

“ Only one ? I was in hopes you would relieve me of 
all the sane people. They say you are ingenious at it. 
All I know is, I can’t get rid of an inmate if the person 
who signed the order resists. Now, for instance, here’s 
a Mrs. Hallam came here unsound — religious delusion. 
Has been cured two months. I have reported her so to 
her son-in-law, who signed the order; but he will not 
discharge her. He is vicious, she scriptural; bores him 
about eternity. Then I wrote to the Commissioners in 
Lunacy: but they don’t like to strain their powers, so 
they wrote to the affectionate son-in-law, and he politely 
declines to act. Sir Charles Bassett the same; three 
weeks ago I reported him cured, and the detaining rela¬ 
tive has not even replied to me.” 

“ Got a copy of your letter ? ” 

“ Of course. But what if I tell you there is a gentle¬ 
man here, who never had any business to come, yet he is 
as much a fixture as the grates. I took him blindfold 
along with the house. I signed a deed, and it is so 
stringent I can’t evade one of my predecessor’s engage¬ 
ments. This old rogue committed himself to my pre¬ 
decessor’s care under medical certificates; the'order he 
signed himself.” 

“ Illegal, you know.” 

“ Of course; but where’s the remedy ? The person 
who signed the order must rescind it. But this sham 
lunatic won’t rescind it. Altogether the tenacity of an 


282 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


asylum is prodigious. The statutes are written with 
birdlime. Twenty years ago that old skinflint found 
the rates and taxes intolerable; and doesn’t everybody 
find them intolerable ? To avoid those rates and taxes 
he shut up his house, captured himself, and took himself 
here; and here he will end his days, excluding some 
genuine patient, unless you sweep him into the street 
for me.” 

“ Sindbad, I will try,” said Rolfe solemnly; “ but I 
must begin with Sir Charles Bassett. By-the-by, about 
his crotchet ? ” 

“ Oh, he has still an extravagant desire for children. 
But the cerebral derangement is cured; and the other, 
standing by itself, is a foible, not a mania. It is only a 
natural desire in excess. If they brought me Bachel 
merely because she had said, ‘Give me children, or I 
die,’ and I found her a healthy woman in other respects, 
I should object to receive her on that score alone.” 

“ You are deadly particular — compared with some of 
them,” said Rolfe. 

That evening he made an appointment with Sir Charles, 
and visited him in his room at eight a.m. He told him 
he had seen Lady Bassett in London; and of course he 
had to answer many questions. He then told him he 
came expressly to effect his liberation. 

“ I am grateful to you, sir,” said Sir Charles, with a 
suppressed and manly emotion. 

“ Here are my instructions from Lady Bassett — short, 
but to the point.” 

“ May I keep that ? ” 

“Why, of course.” 

Sir Charles kissed his wife’s line, and put the note in 
his breast. 

“ The first step,” said Rolfe, “ is to cut you in two. 
That is soon done. You must copy in your own hand, 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


283 


and then sign, this writing.” And he handed him a 
paper. 

“I, Charles Dyke Bassett, being of sound mind, instruct 
James Sharpe, of Gray’s Inn, my solicitor, to sue the person 
who signed the order for my incarceration — in the Court of 
Common Pleas; and to take such other steps for my relief as 
may be advised by my counsel Mr. Francis Eolfe.” 

“Excuse me,” said Sir Charles, “if I make one objec¬ 
tion. Mr. Oldfield has been my solicitor for many years. 
I fear it will hurt his feelings if I entrust the matter to 
a stranger. Would there be any objection to my insert¬ 
ing Mr. Oldfield’s name, sir ? ” 

“ Only this ; he would think he knew better than I do; 
and then I who know better than he does, and am very 
vain and arrogant, should throw up the case in a passion, 
and go back to my MS.; and humdrum Oldfield would 
go to equity instead of law; and all the costs would fall 
on your estate, instead of on your enemy; and you 
would be here eighteen months instead of eight or ten 
days. No, Sir Charles, you can’t mix champagne and 
ditch-water; you can’t make Invention row in a boat 
with Antique Twaddle, and you mustn’t ask me to fight 
your battle with a blunt knife, when I have got a sharp 
knife that fits my hand.” 

Mr. Eolfe said this with more irritation than was jus¬ 
tified, and revealed one of the great defects in his 
character. 

Sir Charles saw his foible, smiled and said, “ I with¬ 
draw a proposal which I see annoys you.” He then 
signed the paper. 

Mr. Eolfe broke out all smiles directly, and said, — 

“Now you are cut in two. One you is here; but 
Sharpe is another you. Thus, one you works out of the 
asylum, and one in, and that makes all the difference, 


284 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Compare notes with those who have tried the other way. 
Yet ; simple and obvious as this is, would you believe it ? 
I alone have discovered this method: I alone practise it.” 

He sent his secretary off to London at once, and re¬ 
turned to Sir Charles. “The authority will be with 
Sharpe at two-thirty. He will be at Whitehall three- 
fifteen, and examine the order. He will take the writ out 
at once, and, if Eichard Bassett is the man, he will serve 
it on him to-morrow in good time, and send one of your 
grooms over here on horseback with the news. We 
serve the writ personally, because we have shufflers to 
deal with, and I will not give them a chance. How I 
must go and write a lie or two for the public, and then 
inspect the asylum with Suaby. Before post-time I will 
write to a friend of mine, who is a Commissioner of 
Lunacy, — one of the strong-minded ones. We may as 
well have two strings to our bow.” 

Sir Charles thanked him gracefully and said, “ It is a 
rare thing, in this selfish world, to see one man inter¬ 
est himself in the wrongs of another, as you are good 
enough to do in mine.” 

“Oh,” said Eolfe, “ 1 all work and no play makes Jack 
a dull boy.’ My business is lying, and I drudge at it; 
so to escape now and then to the playground of Truth 
and Justice is a great amusement and recreation to poor 
me. Besides, it gives me fresh vigor to replunge into 
mendacity ; and that’s the thing that pays.” 

With this simple and satisfactory explanation he rolled 
away. 

Leaving, for the present, matters not essential to this 
vein of incident, I jump to what occurred towards 
evening. 

Just after dinner the servant who waited told Dr. 
Suaby that a man had walked all the way from Hunter- 
combe to see Sir Charles Bassett. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


285 


“ Poor fellow! ” said Dr. Suaby, “ I should like to 
see him. Would you mind receiving him here ?” 

“ Oh, no.” 

“On second thoughts, James, you had better light a 
candle in the next room — in case.” 

A heavy clatter was heard, and the burly figure of 
Moses Moss entered the room. Being bareheaded, he 
saluted the company by pulling his head, and it bobbed. 
He was a little dazzled by the lights at first, but soon 
distinguished Sir Charles, and his large countenance 
beamed with simple and affectionate satisfaction. 

“ How d’ye do, Moss ? ” said Sir Charles. 

“ Pretty well, thank ye, sir, in my body, but uneasy in 
my mind. There be a trifle too many rogues afoot to 
please me. However, I told my mistress this morning, 
says I, 1 Before I puts up with this here any longer, I 
must go over there and see him; for here’s so many 
lies a-cutting about,’ says I, 1 I’m fairly mazed.’ So, if 
you please, Sir Charles, will you be so good as to tell me, 
out of your own mouth, and then I shall know; be you 
crazy, sir, or bain’t you, ay or no ? ” 

Suaby and Bolfe had much ado not to laugh right out; 
but Sir Charles said gravely he was not crazy. “ Do I 
look crazy, Moss ? ” 

“That ye doan’t; you look twice the man you did. 
Why, your cheeks did use to be so pasty like; now 
you’ve got a color; but mayhap (casting an eye on the 
decanters) ye’re flustered a bit wi’ drink.” 

“ Ho, no,” said Bolfe, “ we have not commenced our 
nightly debauch yet; only just done dinner.” 

“ Then there goes another. This will, be good news to 
home. Dall’d if I would not ha’ come them there thirty 
miles on all fours for’t. But, sir, if so be you are not 
crazy, please think about coming home ; for things ain’t 
as they should be in our parts. My lady she is away for 


286 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


her groaning, and partly for fear of this very Richard 
Bassett; and him and his lawyer they have put it about 
as you are dead in law — that is the word; and so the 
servants they don’t know what to think ; and the village 
folk are skeared with his clapping four brace on ’em in 
jail; and Joe and I, we wants to fight ’un ; but my dame 
she is timorous, and won’t let us, because of the laayer. 
And th’ upshot is, this here Richard Bassett is master 
after a manner, and comes on the very lawn, and brings 
men with a pole measure, and uses the place as his’n 
mostly; but our Joe bides in the hall, with his gun, and 
swears he’ll shoot him if he sets foot in the house. Joe 
says he have my lady’s leave an’ license so to do, but not 
outside.” 

Sir Charles turned very red, and was breathless with 
indignation. 

Dr. Suaby looked uneasy, and said, “ Control yourself, 
sir.” 

“I am not going to control myself” cried Rolfe, in a 
rage. “ Don’t you take it to heart, Sir Charles. It shall 
not last long.” 

“Ah!” 

“ Dr. Suaby, can you lend me a gig, or a dog-cart, with 
a good horse ? ” 

“Yes. I have got a wonderful roadster, half Irish, 
half Norman.” 

“ Then, Mr. Moss, to-morrow you and I go to Hunter- 
combe : you shall show me this Bassett, and we will give 
him a pill.” 

“Meantime,” said Dr. Suaby, “I take a leaf out of 
your ‘ Medicina Laici,’ and prescribe a hearty supper, a 
quart of ale, and a comfortable bed, to Mr. Moss. James, 
see him well taken care of. Poor man ! ” said he, when 
Moss had retired, “ What simplicity ! what good sense ! 
what ignorance of the world! what feudality ! if I may 
be allowed the expression.” 























. 










' 











- 
























































' / 





































\ 























































t 





•THE CLERK SERVED HIS COPY OF THE WRIT. 








» 










































. 































(t 


























































































































A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 287 

Sir Charles was manifestly discomposed, and retired 
to bed early. 

Bolfe drove off with Moss at eight o’clock, and was 
not seen again all day. Indeed, Sir Charles was jnst 
leaving Dr. Suaby’s room when he came in, rather tired, 
and would not say a word till they gave him a cup of 
tea; then he brightened up and told his story. 

“We went to the railway to meet Sharpe. The muff 
did not come, nor send, by the first train. His clerk 
arrived by the second. We went to Huntercombe village 
together, and, on the road, I gave him some special in¬ 
structions. Bichard Bassett not at home. We used a 
little bad language, and threw out a skirmisher — Moss, 
to wit—to find him. Moss discovered him on your 
lawn, planning a new arrangement of the flower-beds, 
with Wheeler looking over the boundary wall. We went 
up to Bassett, and the clerk served his copy of the writ. 
He took it quite coolly; but, when he saw at whose suit 
it was, he turned pale. He recovered himself directly 
though, and burst out laughing. 1 Suit of Sir Charles 
Bassett. Why, he can’t sue : he is cimliter mortuus; 
mad as a March hare : in confinement.’ Clerk told him 
he was mistaken; Sir Charles was perfectly sane. 1 Good- 
day, sir.’ So then Bassett asked him to wait a little; 
he took the writ away, and showed it Wheeler, no 
doubt. He came back and blustered, and said, ‘ Some 
other person has instructed you: you will get yourself 
into trouble, I fear.’ The little clerk told him not to 
alarm himself, Mr. Sharpe was instructed by Sir Charles 
Bassett, in his own handwriting and signature, and said, 
‘It is not my business to argue the case with you. You 
had better take the advice of counsel.’ — ‘ Thank you/ 
said Bassett, ‘ that would be wasting a guinea.’ — 1 A 
good many thousand guineas have been lost by that sort 
of economy,’ says the little clerk solemnly. Oh, and he 


288 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


told him Mr. Sharpe was instructed to indict him for a 
trespass, if ever he came there again; and handed him 
a written paper to that effect, which we two had drawn 
up at the station: and so left him to his reflections. We 
went into the house and called the servants together, and 
told them to keep the rooms warm, and the beds aired, 
since you might return any day.” 

Upon this news Sir Charles showed no premature or 
undignified triumph, but some natural complacency, and 
a good deal of gratitude. 

The next day was blank of events, but the next after 
Mr. Bolfe received a letter containing a note addressed 
to Sir Charles Bassett. Mr. Bolfe sent it to him. 

Sir, — I am desired to inform you that I attended Lady 
Bassett last night, when she was safely delivered of a son. 
Have seen her again this morning. Mother and child are doing 
remarkably well. 

W. Boddington, Surgeon , 

17 Upper Gloucester Place. 

Sir Charles cried, “ Thank God ! thank God ! ” He 
held out the paper to Mr. Bolfe and sat down, over¬ 
powered by tender emotions. 

Mr. Bolfe devoured the surgeon’s letter at one glance, 
shook the baronet’s hand eloquently, and went away 
softly, leaving him with his happiness. 

Sir Charles, however, began now to pine for liberty. 
He longed so to join his wife, and see his child; and 
Bolfe, observing this, chafed with impatience. He had 
calculated on Bassett, advised by Wheeler, taking the 
wisest course, and discharging him on the spot. He had 
also hoped to hear from the Commissioner in Lunacy. 
But neither event took place. 

They could have cut the Gordian knot by organizing 
an escape : Giles and others were to be bought to that; 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


289 


but Dr. Suaby’s whole conduct had been so kind, gener¬ 
ous, and confiding, that this was out of the question; 
indeed, Sir Charles had for the last month been there 
upon parole. 

Yet the thing had been wisely planned, as will appear 
when I come to notice the advice counsel had given to 
Wheeler in this emergency. But Bassett would not take 
advice; he went by his own head, and prepared a new 
and terrible blow, which Mr. Rolfe did not foresee. 

But meantime an unlooked-for and accidental assistant 
came into the asylum, without the least idea Sir Charles 
was there. 

Mrs. Marsh, early in her married life, converted her 
husband to religion, and took him about the country 
preaching. She was in earnest, and had a vein of natural 
eloquence that really went straight to people’s bosoms. 
She was certainly a Christian, though an eccentric one. 
Temper being the last thing to yield to gospel light, she 
still got into rages; but now she was very humble and 
penitent after them. 

Well, then, after going about doing good, she decided 
to settle down and do good. As for Marsh, he had only 
to obey. Judge for yourself. The mild, gray-headed 
vicar of Calverly, who now leaned on La Marsh as on a 
staff, thought it right at the beginning to ascertain that 
she was not opposing her husband’s views. He put a 
query of this kind as delicately as possible. 

“ My husband! ” cried she. “ If he refused to go to 
heaven with me, I’d take him there by the ear.” And 
her eyes flashed with the threat. 

Well, somebody told this lady that Mr. Yandeleur was 
ruined, and in Dr. Suaby’s asylum, not ten miles from 
her country-seat. This intelligence touched her. She 
contrasted her own happy condition, both worldly and 
spiritual, with that of this unfortunate reprobate, and 
19 


290 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


she felt bound to see if nothing could be done for the 
poor wretch. A timid Christian would have sent some 
man to do the good work ; but this was a lion-like one; 
so she mounted her horse, and, taking only her groom 
with her, was at Bellevue in no time. 

She dismounted, and said she must speak to Dr. Suaby, 
sent in her card, and was received at once. 

“ You have a gentleman here called Vandeleur.” 

The doctor looked disappointed, but bowed. 

“ I wish to see him.” 

“ Certainly, madam. James, take Mrs. Marsh into a 
sitting-room, and send Mr. Vandeleur to her.” 

“ He is not violent, is he ? ” said Mrs. Marsh, begin¬ 
ning to hesitate, when she saw there was no opposition. 

“ Not at all, madam; the pink of politeness. If you 
have any money about you, it might be as well to confide 
it to me.” 

“ What, will he rob me ? ” 

“ Oh, no ! much too well conducted ; but he will most 
likely wheedle you out of it.” 

“No fear of that, sir.” And she followed James. 

He took her to a room commanding the lawn. She 
looked out of the window, and saw several ladies and 
gentlemen walking at their ease, reading, or working in 
the sun. 

“ Poor things! ” she thought, “ they are not so very 
miserable. Perhaps God comforts them by ways un¬ 
known to us. I wonder whether preaching would do 
them any good. I should like to try. But they would 
not let me: they lean on the arm of flesh.” 

Her thoughts were interrupted at last by the door 
opening gently, and in came Vandeleur, with his grace¬ 
ful panther-like step, and a winning smile he had put on 
for conquest. 

He stopped; he stared; he remained motionless and 
astounded. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


291 


At last he burst out, “ Somer— was it me you wished 
to see ? ” 

“ Yes,” said she, very kindly; “I came to see you, for 
old acquaintance. You must call me Mrs. Marsh now ; 
I am married.” 

By this time he had quite recovered himself, and 
offered her a chair with ingratiating zeal. 

“ Sit down by me,” said she, as if she was petting a 
child. “ Are you sure you remember me ? ” 

Says the courtier, “Who could forget you that had 
ever had the honor ” — 

Mrs. Marsh drew back with sudden hauteur. 

“ I did not come here for folly,” said she; then, 
rather naively, “I begin to doubt your being so very 
mad.” 

“ Mad ? no, of course I am not.” 

“ Then, what brings you here ? ” 

“ Stumped.” 

“What, have I mistaken the house ? Is it a jail ?” 

“ Oh, no ! I’ll tell you : you see I was dipped pretty 
deep, and duns after me, and the Derby my only chance; 
so I put the pot on; but a dark horse won. Then, the 
Jews knew I was done; so now it was a race which 
should take me. Sloman had seven writs out. I was in 
a corner. I got a friend that knows every move to sign 
me into this asylum. They thought it was all up then, 
and he is bringing them to a shilling in the pound.” 

Before he could complete this autobiographical sketch, 
Mrs. Marsh started up in a fury, and brought her whip 
down on the table with a smartish cut. 

“You little heartless villain!” she screamed. “Is 
this the way you play upon people ? bringing me from 
my home to console a maniac, and, instead of that, you 
are only what you always were — a spendthrift and a 
scamp! Finely they will laugh at me.” 


292 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


She clutched the whip in her white but powerful hand 
till it quivered in the air, impatient for a victim. 

“ Oh! ” she cried, panting, and struggling with her 
passion, “ if I wasn’t a child of God, I’d ” — 

“ You’d give me a devilish good hiding,” said Vande- 
leur, demurely. 

“That I would” said she very earnestly. 

“ You forget that I never told you I was mad. How 
could I imagine you would hear it ? How could I dream 
you would come, even if you did ? ” 

“I should be no Christian if I didn’t come.” 

“ But I mean — we parted bad friends, you know.” 

“Yes, Van; but when I asked you for the gray horse, 
you sent me a new side-saddle. A woman does not for¬ 
get those little things. You were a gentleman, though 
a child of Belial.” 

Yandeleur bowed most deferentially, as much as to 
say, “ In both those matters you are the highest authority 
earth contains.” 

“ So come,” said she, “ here is plenty of writing-paper. 
How, tell me all your debts, and I will put them down.” 

“ What is the use ? At a shilling in the pound, six 
hundred will pay them all.” 

“ Are you sure ? ” 

“As sure as that I am not going to rob you of the 
money.” 

“ Oh, I only mean to lend it you ! ” 

“ That alters the case.” 

“Prodigiously !” And she smiled satirically. “How 
you friend’s address that is treating with your creditors.” 

“Must I?” 

“Unless you want to put me in a great passion.” 

“'Anything sooner than that.” Then he wrote it for 

her. 

“ And now,” said she, “ grant me a little favor, for old 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


293 


acquaintance. Just you kneel down there, and let me 
wrestle with Heaven for you, that you may be a brand 
plucked from the fire, even as I am.” 

The pink of politeness submitted, with a sigh of 
resignation. 

Then she prayed for him, so hard, so beseechingly, so 
eloquently, he was amazed and touched. 

She rose from her knees, and laid her head on her 
hand, exhausted a little by her own earnestness. 

He stood by her, and hung his head. 

“ You are very good,” he said. “ It is a shame to let 
you waste it on me. Look here: I want to do a little 
bit of good to another man, after you praying so beau¬ 
tifully.” 

“ Ah, I am so glad ! Tell me.” 

“Well, then, you mustn’t waste a thought on me, 
Rhoda. I’m a gambler and a fool. Let me go to the 
dogs at once; it is only a question of time. But there’s 
a fellow here that is in trouble, and doesn’t deserve it, 
and he was a faithful friend to you, I believe. I never 
was. And he has got a wife; and, by what I hear, you 
could get him out, I think, and I am sure you would be 
angry with me afterwards, if I didn’t tell you. You 
have such a good heart. It is Sir Charles Bassett.” 

“ Sir Charles Bassett here ! Oh, his poor wife ! What 
drove him mad ? Poor, poor Sir Charles! ” 

“ Oh, he is all right! They have cured him entirely; 
but there is no getting him out: and he is beginning to 
lose heart, they say. There’s a literary swell here can 
tell all about it; he has come down expressly; but they 
are in a fix, and I think you can help them out. I wish 
you would let me introduce you to him.” 

“ To whom ? ” 

“ To Mr. Rolfe. You used to read his novels.” 

“I adore them. Introduce me at once. But Sir 


294 A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 

Charles must not see me, nor know I am here. Say 
Mrs. Marsh, a friend of Lady Bassett’s.” 

Sly Vandeleur delivered this to Rolfe: but whispered 
out of his own head, “ A character for your next novel: 
a saint, with the devil’s own temper.” 

This insidious addition brought Mr. Rolfe to her 
directly. 

As might be expected from their go-ahead characters, 
these two knew each other intimately in about twelve 
minutes ; and Rolfe told her all the facts I have related, 
and Marsh went into several passions, and corrected her¬ 
self, and said she had been a great sinner, but was 
plucked from the burning, and therefore thankful to 
anybody who would give her a little bit of good to do. 

Rolfe took prompt advantage of this foible, and urged 
her to see the Commiss'ioners in Lunacy, and use all her 
eloquence to get one of them down. 

“ They don’t act upon my letters,” said he: “ but it 
will be another thing if a beautiful, ardent woman puts 
it to them in person, with all that power of face and 
voice I see in you. You are all fire; and you can talk 
Saxon.” 

“ Oh, I’ll talk to them,” said Mrs. Marsh, “ and God 
will give me words : He always does when I am on His 
side. Poor Lady Bassett! my heart bleeds for her. I 
will go to London to-morrow; ay, to-night if you like. 
To-night ? I’ll go this instant! ” 

“ What! ” said Rolfe, “ is there a lady in the world 
who will go a journey without packing seven trunks — 
and merely to do a good action ? ” 

“ You forget. Penitent sinners must make up for lost 
time.” 

“ At that rate impenitent ones like me had better lose 
none. So I’ll arm you at once with certain documents, 
and you must not leave the commissioners till they 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


295 


promise to send one of their number down without 
delay, to examine him, and discharge him if he is as 
we represent.” 

Mrs. Marsh consented warmly, and went with Rolfe 
to Dr. Suaby’s study. 

They armed her with letters and written facts, and 
she rode off at a fiery pace, but not before she and Rolfe 
had sworn eternal friendship. 

The commissioners received Mrs. Marsh coldly. She 
was chilled, but not daunted. She produced Suaby’s 
letter, and Rolfe’s ; and when they were read, she played 
the orator. She argued, she remonstrated, she convinced, 
she persuaded, she thundered: fire seemed to come out 
of the woman. 

Mr. Fawcett, on whom Mr. Rolfe had mainly relied, 
caught fire, and declared he would go down the next day, 
and look into the matter on the spot: and he kept his 
word: he came down: he saw Sir Charles, and Suaby, 
and penetrated the case. 

Mr. Fawcett was a man with a strong head and a good 
heart, but rather an arrogant manner. He was also 
slightly affected with official pomposity and reticence; 
so, unfortunately, he went away without declaring his 
intentions, and discouraged them all with the fear of 
innumerable delays in the matter. 

Now, if justice is slow, injustice is swift. The very 
next day a thunderclap fell on Sir Charles and his 
friends. 

Arrived at the door a fly and pair, with three keepers 
from an asylum kept by Burdoch, a layman, the very 
opposite of the benevolent Suaby : his was a place where 
the old system of restraint prevailed, secretly but largely; 
strait-waistcoats, muffles, hand-locks, etc. Here fleas and 
bugs destroyed the patient’s rest; and, to counteract the 
insects, morphia was administered freely: given to the 


296 


A TERKIBLE TEMPTATION. 


bugs and fleas it would have been an effectual antidote; 
but they gave it to the patients, and so the insects 
won. 

These three keepers came with an order correctly 
drawn, and signed by Richard Bassett, to deliver Sir 
Charles to the agents showing the order. 

Suaby, who had a horror of Burdoch, turned pale at 
the sight of the order, and took it to Rolfe. 

“ Resist! ” said that worthy. 

“ I have no right.” 

“ On second thoughts, do nothing, but gain time, while 
I— Has Bassett paid you for Sir Charles’s board ? ” 

“No” 

“ Decline to give him up till that is done; and be some 
time making out the bill. Come what may, pray keep 
Sir Charles here till I send you a note that I am ready.” 

He then hastened to Sir Charles, and unfolded his 
plans to him. 

Sir Charles assented eagerly: he was quite willing to 
run risks with the hope of immediate liberation, which 
Rolfe held out: his own part was to delay, and put off, 
till he got a line from Rolfe. 

Rolfe then borrowed Vandeleur on parole, and the 
doctor’s dog-cart, and dashed into the town, distant two 
miles. 

First he went to the little theatre, and found them 
just concluding a rehearsal. Being a playwright, he was 
known to nearly all the people, more or less, and got five 
supers and one carpenter to join him — for a considera¬ 
tion. 

He then made other arrangements in the town, the 
nature of which will appear in due course. 

Meantime, Suaby had presented his bill. One of the 
keepers got into the fly, and took it back to the town. 
There, as Rolfe had anticipated, lurked Richard Bassett: 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


297 


he cursed the delay, gave the man the money, and urged 
expedition. The money was brought and paid, and 
Suaby informed Sir Charles. 

But Sir Charles was not obliged to hurry : he took a 
long time to pack: and he was not ready till Yandeleur 
brought a note to him from Rolfe. 

Then Sir Charles came down. 

Suaby made Burdoch’s keeper sign a paper to the 
effect that he had the baronet in charge, and relieved 
Suaby of all further responsibility. 

Then Sir Charles took an affectionate leave of Dr. 
Suaby, and made him promise to visit him at Hunter- 
combe Hall. 

Then he got into the fly, and sat between two keepers, 
and the fly drove off. 

Sir Charles, at that moment, needed all his fortitude. 
The least mistake or miscalculation on the part of his 
friends, and what might not be the result to him! 

As the fly went slowly through the gate, he saw, on 
his right hand, a light carriage and pair moving up; but 
was it coming after him, or only bringing visitors to the 
asylum ? 

The fly rolled on; even his stout heart began to quake. 
It rolled, and rolled. Sir Charles could stand it no 
longer; he tried to look out of the window, to see if the 
carriage was following. 

One of the keepers pulled him in roughly. “ Come, 
none of that, sir.” 

u You insolent scoundrel! ” said Sir Charles. 

“ Ay, ay,” said the man : “ we’ll see about that, when 
we get you home.” 

Then Sir Charles saw he had offended a vindictive 
blackguard. 

He sank back in his seat, and a cold chill crept over 
him. 


298 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Just then, they passed a little clump of fir-trees. 

In a moment there rushed out of these trees a number 
of men in crape masks, stopped the horses, surrounded 
the carriage, and opened it with brandishing of bludgeons 
and life-preservers, and pointing of guns. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


299 


CHAPTER XXX. 

A big man, who seemed the leader, fired a volley of 
ferocious oaths at the keepers, and threatened to send 
them to hell that moment if they did not instantly 
deliver up that gentleman. 

The keepers were thoroughly terrified, and roared for 
mercy. 

“ Hand him out here, you scoundrels ! ” 

“Yes, yes ! Man alive, we are not resisting: what is 
the use ? ” 

“ Hand down his luggage.” 

It was done all in a flutter. 

“Now get in again ; turn your horses’ heads the other 
way, and don’t come back for an hour. You with your 
guns take stations in those trees, and shoot them dead 
if they are back before their time.” 

These threats were interlarded with horrible oaths, 
and Burdoch’s party were glad to get off, and they drove 
away quickly in the direction indicated. 

However, as soon as they got over the first surprise, 
they began to smell a hoax; and, instead of an hour, it 
was scarcely twenty minutes when they came back. 

But meantime the supers were paid liberally among 
the fir-trees by Yandeleur, pocketed their crape, flung 
their dummy guns into a cornfield, dispersed in different 
directions, and left no trace. 

But Sir Charles was not detained for that: the moment 
he was recaptured, he and his luggage were whisked off 
in the other carriage, and with Rolfe and his secretary 
dashed round the town, avoiding the main street, to a 


300 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


railway eight miles off, at a pace almost defying pursuit. 
Not that they dreaded it: they had numbers, arms, and 
a firm determination to fight if necessary, and also three 
tongues to tell the truth, instead of one. 

At one in the morning they were in London. They 
slept at Mr. Bolfe’s house; and before breakfast Mr. 
Bolfe’s secretary was sent to secure a couple of prize¬ 
fighters to attend upon Sir Charles till further notice. 
They were furnished with a written paper explaining 
the case briefly, and were instructed to hit first and talk 
afterwards, should a recapture be attempted. Should a 
crowd collect, they were to produce the letter. These 
measures were to provide against his recapture under 
the statute, which allows an alleged lunatic to be retaken 
upon the old certificates for fourteen days after his 
escape from confinement, but for no longer. 

Money is a good friend in such contingencies as these. 

Sir Charles started directly after breakfast to find his 
wife and child. The faithful pugilists followed at his 
heels in another cab. 

Neither Sir Charles nor Mr. Bolfe knew Lady Bassett’s 
address. It was the medical man who had written, but 
that did not much matter; Sir Charles was sure to learn 
his wife’s address from Mr. Boddington. He called on 
that gentleman at IT Upper Gloucester Place. 

Mr. Boddington had just taken his wife down to Mar¬ 
gate, for her health; had only been gone half an hour. 

This was truly irritating and annoying. Apparently, 
Sir Charles must wait that gentleman’s return. He left 
a line, begging Mr. Boddington to send him Lady Bas¬ 
sett’s address in a cab, immediately on his return. 

He told Mr. Bolfe this; and then for the first time let 
out that his wife’s not writing to him at the asylum had 
surprised and alarmed him — he was on thorns. 

Mr. Boddington returned in the middle of the night, 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


301 


and at breakfast-time Sir Charles had a note to say Lady 
Bassett was at 119 Gloucester Place, Portman Square. 

Sir Charles bolted a mouthful or two of breakfast, and 
then dashed off in a hansom to 119 Gloucester Place. 

There was a bill in the window, “ To be let, Furnished; 
apply to Parker and Ellis.” 

He knocked at the door. Nobody came. Knocked 
again. A lugubrious female opened the door. 

“ Lady Bassett ? ” 

“ Don’t live here, sir. House to be let.” 

Sir Charles went to Mr. Boddington and told nim. 

Mr. Boddington said he thought he could not be mis¬ 
taken, but he would look at his address-book. He did, 
and said it was certainly 119 Gloucester Place. “ Per¬ 
haps she has left,” said he. “ She- was very healthy — 
an excellent patient. But I should not have advised her 
to move for a day or two more.” 

Sir Charles was sore puzzled. He dashed off to the 
agents, Parker and Ellis. 

They said, “ Yes; the house was Lady Bassett’s for a 
few months. They were instructed to let it.” 

“ When did she leave ? I am her husband, and we 
have missed each other, somehow.” 

The clerk interfered, and said Lady Bassett had 
brought the keys in her carriage yesterday. 

Sir Charles groaned with vexation and annoyance. 

“ Did she give you no address ? ” 

“Yes, sir; Huntercombe Hall.” 

“ I mean, no address in London ? ” 

“No, sir, none.” 

Sir Charles was now truly perplexed and distressed, 
and all manner of strange ideas came into his head. He 
did not know what to do, but he could not bear to do 
nothing; so he drove to the Times office, and advertised, 
requesting Lady Bassett to send her present address to 
Mr. Rolfe. 


302 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


At night he talked this strange business over with 
Mr. Rolfe. 

That gentleman thought she must have gone to 
Huntercombe; but by the last post a letter came from 
Suaby, enclosing one from Lady Bassett to her husband. 

119 Gloucester Place. 

Darling, — - The air here is not good for baby, and I cannot 
sleep for the noise. We think of creeping towards home 
to-morrow, in an easy carriage. Pray God you may soon 
meet us at dear Huntercombe. Our first journey will be to 
that dear old comfortable inn at Winterfield, where you and I 
were so happy, but not happier, dearest darling, than we shall 
soon be again, I hope. 

Your devoted wife, 

Bella Bassett. 

My heartfelt thanks to Mr. Rolfe for all he is doing. 

Sir Charles wanted to start that night for Winterfield, 
but Rolfe persuaded him not. “And mind,” said he, 
“ the faithful pugilists must go with you.” 

The morning’s post rendered that needless. It brought 
another letter from Suaby, informing Mr. Rolfe that the 
commissioners had positively discharged Sir Charles, 
and notified the discharge to Richard Bassett. 

Sir Charles took leave of Mr. Rolfe as of a man who 
was to be his bosom friend for life, and proceeded to 
hunt for his wife. 

She had left Winterfield; but he followed her like a 
stanch hound; and, when he stopped at a certain inn, 
some twenty miles from Huntercombe, a window opened, 
there was a strange, loving scream. He looked up, and 
saw his wife’s radiant face, and her figure ready to fly 
down to him. He rushed up-stairs into the right room 
by some mighty instinct, and held her panting, and 
crying for joy, in his arms. 

That moment almost compensated what each had 
suffered. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


303 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

So full was the joy of this loving pair, that, for a long 
time, they sat rocking in each other’s arms, and thought 
of nothing but their sorrows past, and the sea of bliss 
they were floating on. 

But presently Sir Charles glanced round for a moment. 
Swift to interpret his every look, Lady Bassett rose, 
took two steps, came back and printed a kiss on his 
forehead, and then went to a door and opened it. 

“ Mrs. Millar! ” said she, with one of those tones by 
which these ladies impregnate with meaning a word that 
has none at all; and then she came back to her husband. 

Soon a buxom woman of forty appeared, carrying a 
biggish bank of linen and lace, with a little face in the 
middle. The good woman held it up to Sir Charles, and 
he felt something novel stir inside him. He looked at 
the little thing with a vast yearning of love, with pride, 
and a good deal of curiosity, and then turned smiling to 
his wife. She had watched him furtively but keenly, 
and her eyes were brimming over. He kissed the little 
thing, and blessed it, and then took his wife’s hands, and 
kissed her wet eyes, and made her stand and look at 
baby with him, hand in hand. It was a pretty picture. 

The buxom woman swelled her feathers, as simple 
women do when they exhibit a treasure of this sort; she 
lifted the little mite slowly up and down, and said, “ Oh, 
you beauty! ” and then went off into various inarticulate 
sounds, which I recommend to the particular study of 
the new philosophers. They cannot have been invented 
after speech: that would be retrogression. They must 


304 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


be the vocal remains of that hairy sharp-eared quadru¬ 
ped, our progenitor, who by accident discovered language, 
and so turned biped, and went ahead of all the other 
hairy quadrupeds, whose ears were too long, or not sharp 
enough, to stumble upon language. 

Under cover of these primeval sounds Lady Bassett 
drew her husband a little apart, and looking in his face 
with piteous wistfulness said, “ You won’t mind Kichard 
Bassett and his baby now ? ” 

“Not I.” 

“ You will never have another fit while you live ? ” 

“I promise.” 

“ You will always be happy ? ” 

“ I must be an ungrateful scoundrel else, my dear.” 

“ Then baby is our best friend. Oh, you little angel! ” 
and she pounced on the mite, and kissed it far harder 
than Sir Charles had. Heaven knows why these gentle 
creatures are so rough with their mouths to children, but 
so it is. 

And now, how can a mere male relate all the pretty 
childish things that were done and said to baby, and of 
baby, before the inevitable squalling began, and baby 
was taken away to be consoled by another of his sub¬ 
jects ? 

Sir Charles and Lady Bassett had a thousand things 
to tell each other, to murmur in each other’s ears, sitting 
lovingly close to each other. 

But, when all was quiet, and everybody else was in 
bed, Lady Bassett plucked up courage, and said, “ Charles, 
I am not quite happy. There is one thing wanting.” 
And then she hid her face in her hands, and blushed. 
“I cannot nurse him.” 

“Never mind,” said Sir Charles, kindly. 

“ You forgive me ? ” 

“ Forgive you, my poor girl! Why! is that a crime ? ” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 305 

“ It leads to so many things. You don’t know what a 
plague a nurse is, and makes one jealous.” 

“ Well, but it is only for a time. Come, Bella, this is 
a little peevish. Don’t let us be ungrateful to Heaven. 
As for me, whilst you and our child live, I am proof 
against much greater misfortunes than that.” 

Then Lady Bassett cleared up, and the subject dropped. 

But it was renewed next morning in a more definite 
form. 

Sir Charles rose early; and, in the pride and joy of 
his heart, and not quite without an eye to triumphing 
over his mortal enemy and his cold friends, sent a 
mounted messenger with orders to his servants to pre¬ 
pare for his immediate reception, and to send out his 
landau and four horses to the “Bose,” at Staveleigh, 
halfway between Huntercombe and the place where he 
now was. Lady Bassett had announced herself able for 
the journey. 

After breakfast he asked her, rather suddenly, whether 
Mrs. Millar was not rather an elderly woman to select 
for a nurse. “ I thought people got a young woman for 
that office.” 

“ Oh ! ” said Lady Bassett, “ why, Mrs. Millar is not 
the nurse. Of course nurse is young and healthy, and 
from the country, and the best I could have in every 
way for baby. But yet — oh, Charles, I hope you will 
not be angry — who do you think nurse is ? It is Mary 
Gosport — Mary Wells that was.” 

Sir Charles was a little staggered. He put this and 
that together, and said, “ Why, she must have been play¬ 
ing the fool, then ? ” 

“ Hush! not so loud, dear. She is a married woman, 
now, and her husband gone to sea, and her child dead. 
Most wet-nurses have a child of their own, and don’t you 
think they must hate the stranger’s child that parts them 
20 


306 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


from their own ? Now baby is a comfort to Mary. And 
the wet-nurse is always a tyrant; and I thought, as this 
one has got into a habit of obeying me, she might be 
more manageable ; and then as to her having been im¬ 
prudent, I know many ladies who have been obliged to 
shut their eyes a little. Why consider, Charles, would 
good wives and good mothers leave their own children to 
nurse a stranger’s? Would their husbands let them? 
And I thought,” said she piteously, “ we were so for¬ 
tunate to get a young, healthy girl, imprudent but not 
vicious, whose fault has been covered by marriage, and 
then so attached to us both, as she is, poor thing! ” 

Sir Charles was in no humor to make mountains of 
mole-hills. 

“ Why, my dear Bella,” said he, “ after all, this is your 
department, not mine.” 

“ Yes, but unless I please you in every department, 
there is no happiness for me.” 

“ But you know you please me in everything; and the 
more I look into anything, the wiser I always think you. 
You have chosen the best wet-nurse possible. Send her 
to me.” 

Lady Bassett hesitated. “You will be kind to her. 
You know the consequence if anything happens to make 
her fret. Baby will suffer for it.” 

“ Oh, I know. Catch me offending this she-potentate, 
till he is weaned. Dress for the journey, my dear, and 
send nurse to me.” 

Lady Bassett went into the next room, and, after a 
long time, Mary came to Sir Charles, with baby in her 
arms. 

Mary had lost, for a time, some of her ruddy color, but 
her skin was clearer, and, somehow, her face was soft¬ 
ened. She looked really a beautiful and attractive 
young woman. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


307 


She courtesied to Sir Charles, and then took a good 
look at him. 

“Well, nurse,” said he cheerfully, “here we are, back 
again, both of us.” 

“ That we be, sir.” And she showed her white teeth 
in a broad smile. “ La, sir, you be a sight for sore eyes. 
How well you do look, to be sure ! ” 

“ Thank you, Mary. I never was better in my life. 
You look pretty well, too; only a little pale — paler than 
Lady Bassett does.” 

“ I give my color to the child,” said Mary simply. 

She did not know she had said anything poetic; but 
Sir Charles was so touched and pleased with her answer, 
that he gave her a five-pound note on the spot; and he 
said, — 

“We’ll bring your color back, if beef, and beer, and 
kindness can do it.” 

“ I ain’t afeard o’ that, sir; and I’ll arn it. ’Tis a 
lovely boy, sir, and your very image.” 

Inspection followed; and something or other offended 
young master; he began to cackle. But this nurse did 
not take him away, as Mrs. Millar had. She just sat 
down with him, and nursed him openly, with rustic com¬ 
posure and simplicity. 

Sir Charles leaned his arm on the mantelpiece, and 
eyed the pair; for all this was a new world of feeling to 
him. His paid servant seemed to him to be playing the 
mother to his child. Somehow it gave him a strange 
twinge; a sort of vicarious jealousy; he felt for his 
Bella. But I think his own paternal pride, in all its 
freshness, was hurt a little too. 

At last he shrugged his shoulders, and was going out 
of the room, with a hint to Mary that she must wrap 
herself up, for it would be an open carriage — 

“Your own carriage, sir, and horses ? ” 


308 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Certainly.” 

“ And do all tlie folk know as we are coming ? ” 

Sir Charles laughed. “Most likely. Gossip is not 
dead at Huntercombe, I dare say.” 

Nurse’s black eyes flashed. 

“ All the village will be out. I hope he will see us 
ride in, the black-hearted villain ! ” 

Sir Charles was too proud to let her draw him into 
that topic: he went about his business. 

Lady Bassett’s carriage, duly packed, came round, and 
Lady Bassett was ready soon afterwards; so was Mrs. 
Millar; so was baby, embedded now in a nest of lawn 
and lace, and white fur. They had to wait for nurse. 
Lady Bassett explained sotto voce to her husband : 

“Just at the last moment she was seized with a desire 
to wear a silk gown I gave her. I argued with her, but 
she only pouted. I was afraid for baby. It is very hard 
upon you , dear.” 

Her face and voice were so piteous, that Sir Charles 
burst out laughing. 

“We must take the bitter along with the sweet. 
Don’t you think the sweet rather predominates at 
present ? ” 

Lady Bassett explored his face with all her eyes. 

“ My darling is happy now ; trifles cannot put him out.” 

“ I doubt if anything could shake me, whilst I have 
you and our child. As for that jade keeping us all 
waiting while she dons silk attire, it is simply delicious. 
I wish Rolfe was here, that is all. Ha ! ha! ha ! ” 

Mrs. Gosport appeared at last, in a purple silk gown, 
and marched to the carriage without the slightest sign 
of the discomfort she really felt; but that was no won¬ 
der, belonging, as she did, to a sex which can walk not 
only smiling, but jauntily, though dead lame, on sloping 
stilts — as you may see any day in Regent Street. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


309 


Sir Charles, with mock gravity, ushered King Baby 
and his attendants in first, then Lady Bassett, and got 
in last himself. 

Before they had gone a mile, Nurse No. 1 handed the 
child over to Nurse No. 2, with a lofty condescension, as 
who should say, “You suffice for porterage; I, the supe¬ 
rior artist, reserve myself for emergencies.” No. 2 re¬ 
ceived the invaluable bundle with meek complacency. 

By-and-by Nurse 1 got fidgety, and kept changing her 
position. 

“What is the matter, Mary?” said Lady Bassett 
kindly. “ Is the dress too tight ? ” 

“No, no, my lady,” said Mary sharply, “the gownd’s 
all right.” And then she was quiet a little. 

But she began again; and then Lady Bassett whis¬ 
pered Sir Charles, “I think she wants to sit forward; 
may I ? ” 

“ Certainly not. I’ll change with her. Here, Mary, 
try this side. We shall have more room in the landau; 
it is double, with wide seats.” 

Mary was gratified, and amused herself looking out of 
the window. Indeed, she was quiet for nearly half an 
hour. At the expiration of that period the fit took her 
again. She beckoned haughtily for baby, “which did 
come at her command,” as the song says. She got tired 
of baby, or something, and handed him back again. 

Presently she was discovered to be crying. 

General consternation! Universal, but vague conso¬ 
lation ! 

Lady Bassett looked an inquiry at Mrs. Millar. Mrs. 
Millar looked back assent. Lady Bassett assumed the 
command, and took off Mary’s shawl. 

“ Yes/’ said she to Mrs. Millar. “Now, Mary, be 
good; it is too tight.” 

Thus urged, the idiot contracted herself by a mighty 


310 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


effort, while Lady Bassett attacked the fastenings, and, 
with infinite difficulty, they unhooked three bottom 
hooks. The fierce burst open that followed, and the 
awful chasm, showed what gigantic strength vanity can 
command, and how savagely abuse it to maltreat nature. 

Lady Bassett loosened the stays too, and a deep sigh 
of relief told the truth, which the lying tongue had 
denied, as it always does, whenever the same question 
is put. 

The shawl was replaced, and comfort gained till they 
entered the town of Staveleigh. 

Nurse instantly exchanged places with Sir Charles, 
and took the child again. He was her banner in all 
public places. 

When they came up to the inn, they were greeted 
with loud hurrahs. It was market-day. The town was 
full of Sir Charles’s tenants and other farmers. His 
return had got wind, and every farmer under fifty had 
resolved to ride with him into Huntercombe. 

When five or six, all shouting together, intimated this 
to Sir Charles, he sent one of his people to order the 
butchers out to Huntercombe, with joints a score, and 
then to gallop on with a note to his housekeeper and 
butler. “ For those that ride so far with me must sup 
with me,” said he; a sentiment that was much approved. 

He took Lady Bassett and the women up-stairs, and 
rested them about an hour: and then they started for 
Huntercombe, followed by some thirty farmers, and a 
dozen townspeople, who had a mind for a lark, and to 
sup at Huntercombe Hall for once. 

The ride was delightful; the carriage bowled swiftly 
along over a smooth road, with often turf at the side; 
and that enabled the young farmers to canter alongside 
without dusting the carriage party. Every man on 
horseback they overtook joined them; some they met 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


311 


turned back with them, and these were rewarded with 
loud cheers: every eye in the carriage glittered, and 
every cheek was more or less flushed by this uproarious 
sympathy so gallantly shown, and the very thunder of 
so many horses’ feet, each carrying a friend, was very 
exciting and glorious. Why, before they got to the vil¬ 
lage, they had fourscore horsemen at their backs. 

As they got close to the village, Mary Gosport held 
out her arms for young master: this was not the time 
to forego her importance. 

The church bells rang out a clashing peal, the caval¬ 
cade clattered into the village. Everybody was out to 
cheer, and, at the sight of baby, the women’s voices were 
as loud as the men’s. Old pensioners of the house were 
out bare-headed; one, with hair white as snow, was down 
on his knees, praying a blessing on them. 

Lady Bassett began to cry softly; Sir Charles, a little 
pale, but firm as a rock; both bowing right and left, like 
royal personages ; and well they might; every house in 
the village belonged to them, but one. 

On approaching that one, Mary Gosport turned her 
head round, and shot a glance out of the tail of her eye. 
Ay, there was Bichard Bassett, pale and gloomy, half 
hid behind a tree at his gate: but Hate’s quick eye dis¬ 
cerned him: at the moment of passing she suddenly 
lifted the child high, and showed it him, pretending to 
show it to the crowd; but her eye told the tale; for, 
with that act of fierce hatred and cunning triumph, those 
black orbs shot a colored gleam like a furious leopardess’s. 

A roar of cheers burst from the crowd at that inspired 
gesture of a woman, whose face and eyes seemed on fire: 
Lady Bassett turned pale. 

The next moment they passed their own gate, and 
dashed up to the hall-steps of Huntercombe. 

Sir Charles sent Lady Bassett to her room for the 


312 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


night. She walked through a row of ducking servants, 
bowing and smiling like a gentle goddess. Mary Gos¬ 
port, afraid to march in a long dress with the child, for 
fear of accidents, handed him superbly to Millar, and 
strutted haughtily after her mistress, nodding patronage. 
Her follower, the meek Millar, stopped often to show 
the heir right and left, with simple geniality and kind¬ 
ness. 

Sir Charles stood on the hall-steps, and invited all to 
come in and take pot-luck. 

Already spits were turning before great fires; a rump 
of beef, legs of pork, and peas-puddings boiling in one 
copper; turkeys and fowls in another; joints and pies 
baking in the great brick ovens; barrels of beer on tap, 
and magnums of champagne and port marching steadily 
up from the cellars, and forming in line and square 
upon sideboards and tables. 

Supper was laid in the hall, the dining-room, the 
drawing-room, and the great kitchen. 

Poor villagers trickled in: no man or woman was 
denied: it was open house that night, as it had been 
four hundred years ago. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


313 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

When Sharpe’s clerk retired, after serving that writ 
on Bassett, Bassett went to Wheeler, and treated it as a 
jest. But Wheeler looked puzzled, and Bassett himself, 
on second thoughts, said he should like advice of counsel. 
Accordingly they both went up to London to a solicitor, 
and obtained an interview with a* counsel learned in the 
law. He heard their story, and said, “ The question is, 
can you convice a jury he was insane at the time ? ” 
“ But he can’t get into court,” said Bassett. “ I won’t 
let him.” 

“ Oh, the court will make you produce him.” 

“ But I thought an insane person was civiliter mortuus, 
and couldn’t sue.” 

“ So he is ; but this man is not insane in law: shutting 
up a man on certificates is merely a preliminary step to 
a fair trial by his peers, whether he is insane or not. 
Take the parallel case of a felon. A magistrate commits 
him for trial, and generally on better evidence than medi¬ 
cal certificates; but that does not make the man a felon, 
or disentitle him to a trial by his peers; on the contrary, 
it entitles him to a trial, and he could get Parliament to 
interfere, if he was not brought to trial. This plaintiff 
simply does what, he will say, you ought to have done; 
he tries himself: if he tries you at the same time, that 
is your fault. If he is insane now, fight. If he is not, 
I advise you to discharge him on the instant, and then 
compound.” 

Wheeler said he was afraid the plaintiff was too vin¬ 
dictive to come to terms. 


314 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“Well, then, you can show you discharged him the 
moment you had reason to think he was cured, and you 
must prove he was insane when you incarcerated him : 
but I warn you it will be uphill work if he is sane now: 
the jury will be apt to go by what they see.” 

Bassett and Wheeler retired; the latter did not pre¬ 
sume to differ; but Bassett was dissatisfied and irritated. 

“ That fellow would only see the plaintiff’s side,” said 
he. “The fool forgets there is an Act of Parliament, 
and that we have complied with its provisions to a T.” 

“ Then why did you not ask his construction of the 
act ? ” suggested Wheeler. 

“ Because I don’t want his construction. I’ve read it, 
and it is plain enough to anybody but a fool. Well, I 
have consulted counsel to please you; and now I’ll go 
my own way, to please myself.” 

He went to Burdoch and struck a bargain, and Sir 
Charles was to be shifted to Burdoch’s asylum, and no¬ 
body allowed to see him there, etc., etc.; the old system, 
in short, than which no better has, as yet, been devised, 
for perpetuating, or even causing, mental aberration. 

Bolfe baffled this, as described, and Bassett was liter¬ 
ally stunned. He now saw that Sir Charles had an ally 
full of resources and resolution. Who could it be ? He 
began to tremble. He complained to the police, and set 
them to discover who had thus openly and audaciously 
violated the Act of Parliament, and then he went and 
threatened Dr. Suaby. 

But Bolfe and Sir Charles, who loved Suaby as he 
deserved, had provided against that: they had not let 
the doctor into their secret. He therefore said, with 
perfect truth, that he had no hand in the matter, and 
that Sir Charles, being bound upon his honor not to 
escape from Bellevue, would be in the asylum still, if 
Mr. Bassett had not taken him out, and invoked brute 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


315 


force, in the shape of Burdoch. “Well, sir,” said he, 
“it seems they have shown you two can play at that 
game.” And so bade him good-afternoon, very civilly. 

Bassett went home sickened. He remained sullen and 
torpid for a day or two; then he wrote to Burdoch to 
send to London and try and recapture Sir Charles. 

But next day he revoked his instructions, for he got a 
letter from the Commissioners of Lunacy, announcing the 
authoritative discharge of Sir Charles, on the strong rep¬ 
resentation of Dr. Suaby and other competent persons. 

That settled the matter, and the poor cousin had kept 
the rich cousin three months at his own expense, with 
no solid advantage but the prospect of a law-suit. 

Sharpe, spurred by Bolfe, gave him no breathing-time. 
With the utmost expedition the declaration in Bassett 
v. Bassett followed the writ. It was short, simple, and 
in three counts : 

“For violently seizing and confining the plaintiff in a 
certain place, on a false pretence that he was insane. 

“ For detaining him in spite of evidence that he was 
not insane. 

“For endeavoring to remove him to another place, 
with a certain sinister motive there specified. 

“ By which several acts the plaintiff had suffered in 
his health and his worldly affairs, and had endured great 
agony of mind.” 

And the plaintiff claimed damages, ten thousand 
pounds. 

Bassett sent over for his friend Wheeler, and n showed 
him the new document with no little consternation. 

But their discussion of it was speedily interrupted 
by the clashing of triumphant bells and distant shout¬ 
ing. 

They ran out to see what it was. Bassett, half sus¬ 
pecting, hung back; but Mary Gosport’s keen eye de- 


316 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


tected him, and she held up the heir to him, with hate 
and triumph blazing in her face. 

He crept into his own house, and sank into a chair — 
foudroye. 

Wheeler, however, roused him to a necessary effort, 
and next day they took the declaration to counsel, to 
settle their defence in due form. 

“ What is this ? ” said the learned gentleman. “ Three 
counts ! Why, I advised you to discharge him at once.” 

“Yes,” said Wheeler; “and excellent advice it was. 
But my client ” — 

“Preferred to go his own road. And now I am to 
cure the error I did what I could to prevent.” 

“I dare say, sir, it is not the first time in your expe¬ 
rience.” 

“Not by a great many. Clients, in general, have a 
great contempt for the notion that prevention is better 
than cure.” 

“ He can’t hurt me,” said Bassett impatiently. “ He 
was separately examined by two doctors, and all the 
provisions of the statute exactly complied with.” 

“ But that is no defence to this plaint. The statute 
forbids you to imprison an insane person without certain 
precautions; but it does not give you a right, under any 
circumstances, to imprison a sane man. That was decided 
in Butcher v. Butcher. The defence you rely on was 
pleaded as a second plea, and the plaintiff demurred to 
it directly. The question was argued before the full 
court, and the judges, led by the first lawyer of the age, 
decided unanimously that the provisions of the statute 
did not affect sane Englishmen, and their rights under 
the common law. They ordered the plea to be struck off 
the record, and the case was reduced to a simple issue of 
sane or insane. Butcher v. Butcher governs all these 
cases. Can you prove him insane ? If not, you had 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


317 


better compound on any terms. In Butcher’s case the 
jury gave three thousand pounds, and the plaintiff was a 
man of very inferior position to Sir Charles Bassett. 
Besides, the defendant, Butcher, had not persisted against 
evidence, as you have. They will award five thousand 
pounds at least in this case.” 

He took down a volume of reports, and showed them 
the case he had cited; and, on reading the unanimous 
decision of the judges, and the learning by which they 
were supported, Wheeler said at once, “ Mr. Bassett, we 
might as well try to knock down St. Paul’s with our 
heads as to go against this decision.” 

They then settled to put in a single plea, that Sir 
Charles was insane at the time of his capture. 

This done to gain time, Wheeler called on Sharpe, 
and, after several conferences, got the case compounded 
by an apology, a solemn retractation in writing, and the 
payment of four thousand pounds. His counsel assured 
him his client was very lucky to get off so cheap. 

Bassett paid the money, with the assistance of his 
wife’s father; but it was a sickener; it broke his spirit, 
and even injured his health for some time. 

Sir Charles improved the village with the money, and 
gave a copyhold tenement to each of the men Bassett 
had got imprisoned. So they and their sons and their 
grandsons lived rent free — no, now I think of it, they 
had to pay fourpence a year to the lord of the manor. 

Defeated at every point, and at last punished severely, 
Bichard Bassett fell into a deep dejection and solitary 
brooding of a sort very dangerous to the reason. He 
would not go out of doors to give his enemies a triumph. 
He used to sit by the fire, and mutter, “ Blow upon blow, 
blow upon blow. My poor boy will never be lord of 
Huntercombe now,” and so on. 

Wheeler pitied him, but could not rouse him. 


318 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


At last a person, for whose narrow attainments and 
simplicity he had a profound, though, to do him justice, a 
civil contempt, ventured to his rescue. Mrs. Bassett went 
crying to her father, and told him she feared the worst, 
if Bichard’s mind could not be diverted from the Hunter- 
combe estate, and his hatred of Sir Charles and Lady 
Bassett, which had been the great misfortune of her life, 
and of his own, but nothing would ever eradicate it. 

Bichard had great abilities, was a linguist, a wonder¬ 
ful accountant. Could her dear father find him some 
profitable employment to divert his thoughts ? 

“ What, all in a moment ? ” said the old man j “ then 
I shall have to buy it; and, if I go on like this, I shall 
not have much to leave you.” 

Having delivered this objection, he went up to London, 
and, having many friends in the City, and laying himself 
open to proposals, he got scent at last of a new insurance 
company that proposed also to deal in reversions, espe¬ 
cially to entailed estates. By prompt purchase of shares 
in Bassett’s name, and introducing Bassett himself, who, 
by special study, had a vast acquaintance with entailed 
estates, and a genius for arithmetical calculation, he 
managed somehow to get him into the direction, with a 
stipend, and a commission on all business he might 
introduce to the office. 

Bassett yielded sullenly, and now divided his time 
between London and the country. 

Wheeler worked with him, on a share of commission, 
and they made some money between them. 

After the bitter lesson he had received, Bassett vowed 
to himself he never would attack Sir Charles again, 
unless he was sure of victory. For all this he hated 
him and Lady Bassett worse than ever, hated them to 
the death. 

He never moved a finger down at Huntercombe, nor 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


319 


said a word; but, in London, he employed a private 
inquirer to find out where Lady Bassett had lived at the 
time of her confinement, and whether any clergyman had 
visited her. 

The private inquirer could find out nothing, and Bassett, 
comparing his advertisements with his performance, dis¬ 
missed him for a humbug. 

But the office brought him into contact with a great 
many medical men, one after another. He used to say 
to each stranger, with an insidious smile, “ I think you 
once attended my cousin, Lady Bassett.” 


320 


A TEEEIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTEB XXXIII. 

Sir Charles and Lady Bassett, relieved of their 
cousin’s active enmity, led a quiet life, and one that no 
longer furnished striking incidents. 

But dramatic incident is not everything: character 
and feeling show themselves in things that will not make 
pictures. Now it was precisely during this reposeful 
period that three personages of this story exhibited 
fresh traits of feeling and also of character. 

To begin with Sir Charles Bassett. He came back 
from the asylum, much altered in body and mind. Stop¬ 
ping his cigars had improved his stomach; working in 
the garden had increased his muscular power, and his 
cheeks were healthy and a little sunburnt, instead of 
sallow. His mind was also improved : contemplation of 
insane persons had set him, by a natural recoil, to study 
self-control. He had returned a philosopher; no small 
thing could irritate him now. So far his character was 
elevated. 

Lady Bassett was much the same as before, except a 
certain restlessness. She wanted to be told every day, or 
twice a day, that her husband was happy; and, although 
he was visibly so, yet, as he was quiet over it, she used 
to be always asking him if he was happy. This the 
reader must interpret as he pleases. 

Mary Gosport gave herself airs. Eespectful to her 
master and mistress, but not so tolerant of chaff in the 
kitchen as she used to be. Made an example of one girl, 
who threw a doubt on her marriage. Complained to 
Lady Bassett, affected to fret, and the girl was dismissed. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


321 


She turned singer. She had always sung psalms in 
church, but never a profane note in the house. Now she 
took to singing over her nursling. She had a voice of 
prodigious power and mellowness, and, provided she was 
not asked, would sing lullabies and nursery rhymes from 
another county that ravished the hearer. Horsemen have 
been known to stop in the road to hear her sing through 
an open window of Huntercombe, two hundred yards off. 

Old Mr. Meyrick, a farmer well-to-do, fascinated by 
Mary Gosport’s singing, asked her to be his housekeeper, 
when she should have done nursing her charge. 

She laughed in his face. 

A fanatic, who was staying with Sir Charles Bassett, 
offered her three years’ education in do, re, mi, fa, pre¬ 
paratory to singing at the opera. 

Declined without thanks. 

Mr. Drake, after hovering shyly, at last found courage 
to reproach her for deserting him, and marrying a sailor. 

“Teach you not to shilly-shally,” said she. “Beauty 
won’t go a-begging. Mind you look sharper next time.” 
This dialogue, being held in the kitchen, gave the women 
some amusement at the young farmer’s expense. 

One day Mr. Eichard Bassett, from motives of pure 
affection, no doubt, not curiosity, desired mightily to 
inspect Mr. Bassett, aged eight months and two days. 
So, in his usual wily way, he wrote to Mrs. Gosport, ask¬ 
ing her, for old acquaintance sake, to meet him in the 
meadow, at the end of the lawn. This meadow belonged 
to Sir Charles; but Eichard Bassett had a right of way 
through it, and could step into it by a postern, as Mary 
could by an iron gate. He asked her to come at eleven 
o’clock, because at that hour he observed she walked on 
the lawn with her charge. 

Mary Gosport came to the tryst, but without Mr. 
Bassett. 

21 


322 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Richard was very polite ; she, cold, taciturn, observant. 

At last Ke said, “ But where’s the little heir ? ” 

She flew at him directly. “ It is him you wanted, not 
me. Did you think I’d bring him here — for you to kill 
him ? ” 

“ Come, I say! ” 

“Ay, you’d kill him, if you had a chance. But you 
never shall. Or, if you didn’t kill him, you’d cast the 
evil eye on him; for you are well known to have the evil 
eye. No; he shall outlive thee and thine, and be lord 
of these here manors, when thou is gone to hell, thou 
villain! ” 

Mr. Richard Bassett turned pale, but did the wisest 
thing he could; put his hands in his pockets, and walked 
into his own premises, followed, however, by Mary Gos¬ 
port, who stormed at him, till he shut his postern in her 
face. 

She stood there trembling for a little while, then 
walked away crying. 

But, having a mind like running water, she was soon 
seated on a garden-chair, singing over her nursling, like 
a mavis; she had delivered him to Millar, while she went 
to speak her mind to her old lover. 

As for Richard Bassett, he was theory-bitten, and so 
turned everything one way. To be sure, as long as the 
woman’s glaring eyes, and face distorted by passion, were 
before him, he interpreted her words simply; but, when 
he thought the matter over, he said to himself, “ The evil 
eye! That is all bosh; the girl is in Lady Bassett’s 
secrets, and I am not to see young master; some day I 
shall know the reason why.” 

Sir Charles Bassett now belonged to the tribe of cluck¬ 
ing cocks, quite as much as his cousin had ever done; 
only Sir Charles had the good taste to confine his clucks 
to his own first floor. Here, to be sure, he richly indem- 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


323 


nified himself for his self-denial abroad. He sat for 
hours at a time, watching the boy on the ground at his 
knee, or in his nurse’s arms. 

And, whilst he watched the infant with undisguised 
delight, Lady Bassett watched him with a sort of furtive 
and timid complacency. 

Yet, at times, she suffered from twinges of jealousy — 
a new complaint with her. 

I think I have mentioned that Sir Charles, at first, was 
annoyed at seeing his son and heir nursed by a woman 
of low condition. Well, he got over that feeling by 
degrees, and, as soon as he did get over it, his sentiments 
took quite an opposite turn. A woman for whom he did 
very little, in his opinion — since what, in Heaven’s 
name, were a servant’s wages ! — he saw that woman do 
something great for him: saw her nourish his son and 
heir from her own veins; the child had no other nurture, 
yet the father saw him bloom and thrive, and grow 
surprisingly. 

A weak observer, or a less enthusiastic parent, might 
have overlooked all this; but Sir Charles had naturally 
an observant eye and an analytical mind, and this had 
been suddenly, but effectually, developed by the asylum 
and his correspondence with Kolfe. 

He watched the nurse then, and her maternal acts, 
with a curious and grateful eye, and a certain reverence 
for her power. 

He observed, too, that his child reacted on the woman; 
she had never sung in the house before; now she sang 
ravishingly, sang in low, mellow, yet sonorous notes, 
some ditties that had lulled mediseval barons in their 
cradles. 

And what had made her vocal, made her beautiful at 
times. 

Before, she had appeared to him a handsome girl with 


324 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


the hardish look of the lower classes; but now, when 
she sat in a sunny window, and lowered her black lashes 
on her nursling, with the mixed and delicious smile of 
an exuberant nurse relieving and relieved, she was soft, 
poetical, sculptorial, maternal, womanly. 

This species of contemplation, though half philosophi¬ 
cal, half paternal, and quite innocent, gave Lady Bassett 
some severe pangs. She hid them, however; only she 
bided her time, and then suggested the propriety of 
weaning baby. 

But Mrs. Gosport got Sir Charles’s ear, and told him 
what magnificent children they reared in her village by 
not weaning infants till they were eighteen months old 
or so. 

By this means, and by crying to Lady Bassett, and 
representing her desolate condition, with a husband at 
sea, she obtained a reprieve, coupled, however, with a 
good-humored assurance from Sir Charles that she was 
the greatest baby of the two. 

When the inevitable hour approached that was to de¬ 
throne her, she took to reading the papers, and one day 
she read of a disastrous wreck, the Carbrea Castle, only 
seven saved out of a crew of twenty-three. She read the 
details carefully, and, two days afterwards, she received 
a letter, written by a shipmate of Mr. Gosport, in a hand¬ 
writing not very unlike her own, relating the sad wreck 
of the Carbrea Castle, and the loss of several good sailors, 
James Gosport for one. 

Then the house was filled with the wailing and weep¬ 
ing of the bereaved widow; and at last came consolers 
and raised doubts; but then somebody remembered to 
have seen the loss of that very ship in the paper. The 
paper was found, and the fatal truth was at once estab¬ 
lished. 

Upon this Mr. Bassett was weaned as quickly as possi- 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


325 


ble, and the widow clothed in black at Lady Bassett’s 
expense, and everything in reason done to pet her and 
console her. 

But she cried bitterly, and said she would throw her¬ 
self into the sea and follow her husband. 

Huntercombe was nowhere near the coast. 

At last, however, she relented, and concluded to remain 
on earth as dry-nurse to Mr. Bassett. 

Sir Charles did not approve this; it seemed unreason¬ 
able to turn a wet-nurse into a dry-nurse, when that office 
was already occupied by a person her senior, and more 
experienced. 

Lady Bassett agreed with him, but shrugged her 
shoulders and said, “Two nurses will not hurt, and I 
suspect it will not be for long. Mary does not feel her 
husband’s loss one bit.” 

“ Surely you are mistaken. She howls loud enough.” 

“ Too loud — much,” said Lady Bassett dryly. 

Her perspicacity was not deceived. In a very short 
time, Mr. Meyrick, unable to get her for his housekeeper, 
offered her marriage. 

“What!” said she, “and James Gosport not dead a 
month! ” 

“ Say the word now; and take your own time,” said he. 

“Well, I might do worse,” said she. 

About six weeks after this Drake came about her, and 
in tender tones of consolation suggested that it is much 
better for a pretty girl to marry one who ploughs the 
land than one who ploughs the sea. 

“That is true,” said Mary, with a sigh. “I have found 
it to my sorrow.” 

After this Drake played a bit with her, and then 
relented, and one evening offered her marriage, expect¬ 
ing her to jump eagerly at his offer. 

“You be too late, young man,” said she coollyj “I’m 
bespoke.” 


326 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Doan’t ye say that! How can ye be bespoke ? Why, 
t’other hain’t been dead four months yet.” 

“What o’ that? This one spoke for me within a 
week. Why, our banns are to be cried to-morrow; come 
to church and hear ’em, that will learn ye not to shilly¬ 
shally so next time.” 

“Next time!” cried Drake, half blubbering; then, with 
a sudden roar, “ What, be you coming to market again, 
arter this ? ” 

“ Like enough — he is a sight older than I be. ’Tis 
Mr. Meyrick, if you must know.” 

Now Mr. Meyrick was well-to-do, and so Drake was 
taken aback. 

“ Mr. Meyrick! ” said he, and turned suddenly respect¬ 
ful. But presently a view of a rich widow flitted before 
his eye. “Well,” said he, “you shan’t throw it in my 
teeth again, as I speak too late. I ask you now, and no 
time lost.” 

“What, am I to stop my banns and jilt farmer Meyrick 
for thee ? ” 

“Nay, nay. But I mean I’ll marry you, if you’ll marry 
me, as soon as ever the breath is out of that dall’d old 
hunk’s body.” 

“Well, Will Drake,” said Mary gravely, “if I do out¬ 
live this one — and you bain’t married long afore — and 
if you keeps in the same mind as you be in now — and 
lets me know it in good time — I’ll see about it.” 

She gave a flounce that made her petticoats whisk like 
a mare’s tail, and off to the kitchen, where she related 
the dialogue with an appropriate reflection, the company 
containing several of either sex: “Dilly-dally, and shilly¬ 
shally, they belongs to us as women be. I hate and de¬ 
spise a man as can’t make up his mind in half a minnut.” 

So the widow Gosport became Mrs. Meyrick, and lived 
in a farmhouse not quite a mile from the Hall. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


327 


She used often to come to the Hall, and take a peep 
at her lamb; this was the name she gave Mr. Bassett, 
long after he had ceased to be a child. 

About four years after the triumphant return to 
Huntercombe, Lady Bassett conceived a sudden coldness 
towards the little boy, though he was universally admired. 

She concealed this sentiment from Sir Charles, but not 
from the female servants j and from one to another, at 
last it came round to Sir Charles. He disbelieved it 
utterly at first; but, the hint having been given him, he 
paid attention, and discovered there was, at all events, 
some truth in it. 

He awaited his opportunity, and remonstrated, “My 
dear Bella, am I mistaken, or do I really observe a fall¬ 
ing off in your tenderness for your child ? ” 

Lady Bassett looked this way and that, as if she medi¬ 
tated flight, but at last she resigned herself, and said, 
“ Yes, Charles ; my heart is quite cold to him.” 

“ Good heavens, Bella! But why ? Is not this the 
same little angel that came to our help in trouble, that 
comforted me before his birth, when my mind was mor¬ 
bid, to say the least ? ” 

“ I suppose he is the same,” said she, in a tone impos¬ 
sible to convey by description of mine. 

“ That is a strange answer.” 

“ If he is, I am changed.” And this she said doggedly, 
and unlike herself. 

“ What! ” 'said Sir Charles, very gravely, and with a 
sort of awe; “can a woman withdraw her affection from 
her child, her innocent child ? If so, my turn may come 
next.” 

« Oh, Charles ! Charles ! ” and the tears began to well. 

“Why, who can be secure after this? What is so 
stable as a mother’s love? If that is not rooted too 
deep for gusts of caprice to blow it away, in Heaven’s 
name what is ? ” 


328 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


No answer to that but tears. 

Sir Charles looked at her very long, attentively, and 
seriously, and said not another syllable. 

But this dropping so suddenly a subject of this import¬ 
ance was rather suspicious, and Lady Bassett was too 
shrewd not to see that. 

They watched each other. 

But, with this difference: Sir Charles could not con¬ 
ceal his anxiety, whereas the lady appeared quite tran¬ 
quil. 

One day Sir Charles said cheerfully, “Who do you 
think dines here to-morrow, and stays all night ? Dr. 
Suaby.” 

“ By invitation, dear ? ” asked Lady Bassett quietly. 

Sir Charles colored a little, and said quietly, “ Yes.” 

Lady Bassett made no remark, and it was impossible to 
tell by her face, whether the visit was agreeable or not. 

Some time afterwards, however, she said, “Whom 
shall I ask to meet Dr. Suaby ? ” 

“Nobody, for Heaven’s sake ! ” 

“ Will not that be dull for him ? ” 

“I hope not.” 

“ You will have plenty to say to him, eh, darling ? ” 

“We never yet lacked topics. Whether or no, his is 
a mind I choose to drink neat.” 

“ Drink him neat ? ” 

“Undiluted with rural minds.” 

“ Oh.” 

She uttered that monosyllable very dryly, and said no 
more. 

Dr. Suaby came next day, and dined with them, and 
Lady Bassett was charming; but, rather earlier than 
usual, she said, “Now I am sure you and Dr. Suaby must 
have many things to talk about; ” and retired, casting 
back an arch and almost a cunning smile. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


329 


The door closed on her; the smile fled, and a sombre 
look of care and suffering took its place. 

Sir Charles entered at once on what was next his 
heart; told Dr. Suaby he was in some anxiety; and 
asked him if he had observed anything in Lady Bas¬ 
sett. 

" Nothing new,*’ said Dr. Suaby — “ charming as ever.” 

Then Sir Charles confided to Dr. Suaby, in terms of 
deep feeling and anxiety, what I have coldly told the 
reader. 

Dr. Suaby looked a little grave, and took time to think 
before he spoke. 

At last he delivered an opinion, of which this is the 
substance, though not the exact words : 

“ It is sudden and unnatural, and I cannot say it does 
not partake of mental aberration. If the patient was a 
man, I should fear the most serious results : but here we 
have to take into account the patient’s sex, her nature, 
and her present condition. Lady Bassett has always 
appeared to me a very remarkable woman; she has no 
mediocrity in anything; understanding keen, perception 
wonderfully swift, heart large and sensitive, nerves high- 
strung, sensibilities acute. A person of her sex, tuned 
so high as this, is always subject more or less to hysteria. 
It is controlled by her intelligence and spirit; but she 
is now, for the time being, in a physical condition that 
has often deranged less sensitive women than she is. I 
believe this about the boy to be a hysterical delusion, 
which will pass away when her next child is born. That 
is to say, she will probably ignore her firstborn, and 
everything else, for a time; but these caprices, spring¬ 
ing, in reality, from the body rather than the mind, can¬ 
not endure forever. When she has several grown-up 
children, the firstborn will be the favorite. It comes to 
that at last, my good friend.” 


330 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ These are the words of wisdom,” said Sir Charles; 
“ God bless you for them.” 

After a while he said, “ Then what you advise is sim¬ 
ply — patience ? ” 

“No, I don’t say that. With such a large house as 
this, and your resources, you might easily separate them 
before the delusion goes any farther. Why risk a 
calamity ? ” 

“ A calamity ? ” and Sir Charles began to tremble. 

“ She is only cold to the child, as yet. She might go 
farther, and fancy she hated it. Obsta principiis; that 
is my motto. Not that I really think, for a moment, 
the child is in danger. Lady Bassett has mind to con¬ 
trol her nerves with; but why run the shadow of a 
chance ? ” 

“I will not run the shadow of a chance,” said Sir 
Charles resolutely; “ let us come up-stairs : my decision 
is taken.” 

The very next day, Sir Charles called on Mrs. Meyrick, 
and asked if he could come to any arrangement with 
her, to lodge Mr. Bassett and his nurse under her roof; 
“ The boy wants change of air,” said he. 

Mrs. Meyrick jumped at the proposal, but declined all 
terms. “ No,” said she, “ the child I have suckled shall 
never pay me for his lodging. Why should he, sir, when 
I’d pay you to let him come, if I wasn’t afeared of 
offending you ? ” 

Sir Charles was touched at this, and, being a gentle¬ 
man of tact, said, “You are very good: well, then I 
must remain your debtor for the present.” 

He then took his leave, but she walked with him a 
few yards, just as far as the wicket-gate that separated 
her little front garden from the high road. 

“ I hope,” said she, “ my lady will come and see me, 
when my lamb is with me: a sight of her would be 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


331 


good for sore eyes. She have never been here but once, 
and then she did not get out of her carriage.” 

“Humph!” said Sir Charles apologetically, “she 
seldom goes out now; you understand.” 

“ Oh, I’ve heard, sir; and I do put up my prayers for 
her; for my lady has been a good friend to me, sir, and, 
if you will believe me, I often sets here and longs for a 
sight of her, and her sweet eyes, and her hair like sun¬ 
shine, that I’ve had in my hand so often. Well, sir, I 
hope it will be a girl this time, a little girl with golden 
hair; that’s what I wants this time. They’d be the 
prettiest pair in England.” 

“ With all my heart,” said Sir Charles ; “ girl or boy, 
I don’t care which; but I’d give a few thousands if it 
was here, and the mother safe.” 

He hurried away, ashamed of having uttered the feel¬ 
ings of his heart to a farmer’s wife. 

To avoid discussion, he sent Mrs. Millar and the boy 
off, all in a hurry, and then told Lady Bassett what he 
had done. 

She appeared much distressed at that, and asked what 
she had done. 

He soothed her, and said she was not to blame at all; 
and she must not blame him either. He had done it for 
the best. 

“ After all you are the master,” said she submissively. 

“I am,” said he, “and men will be tyrants, you 
know.” 

Then she flung her arm round her tyrant’s neck, and 
there was an end of the discussion. 

One day he inquired for her and heard, to his no small 
satisfaction, she had driven to Mrs. Meyrick’s with a box 
of things for Mr. Bassett. She stayed at the farmhouse 
all day, and Sir Charles felt sure he had done the right 
thing. 


332 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Mrs. Meyrick found out to her cost the difference 
between a nursling and a rampageous little boy. 

Her lamb, as she called him, was now a young monkey, 
vigorous, active, restless, and, unfortunately, as strong 
on his pins as most boys of six. It took two women to 
look after him, and smart ones too, so swiftly did he 
dash off into some mischief or other. At last Mrs. 
Meyrick simplified matters in some degree by locking 
the large gate, and even the small wicket, and ordering 
all the farm people and milkmaids to keep an eye on 
him, and bring him straight to her if he should stray, 
for he seemed to hate in-doors. Never was such a boy. 

Nevertheless, such as had not the care of him admired 
the child for his beauty and his assurance. He seemed 
to regard the whole human race as one family, of which 
he was the rising head. The moment he caught sight 
of a human being, he dashed at it and into conversation 
by one unbroken movement. 

Now children in general are too apt to hide their 
intellectual treasures from strangers by shyness. 

One day this ready converser was standing on the 
steps of the house, when a gentleman came to the wicket- 
gate, and looked over into the garden. 

Young master darted to the gate directly, and, getting 
his foot on the lowest bar and his hands on the spikes, 
gave tongue. 

“ Who are you ? I’m Mr. Bassett. I don’t live here: 
I’m only staying. My home is Huncom Hall. I’m to 
have it for myself when papa dies. I didn’t know dat till 
I come here. How old are you ? I’m half-past four ” — 

A loud scream, a swift rustle, and Mr. Bassett was 
clutched up by Mrs. Meyrick, who snatched him away 
with a wild glance of terror and defiance, and bore him 
swiftly into the house with words ringing in her ears 
that cost Mr. Bassett dear, he being the only person she 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


333 


could punish. She sat down on a bench, flung young 
master across her knee in a minute, and bestowed such 
a smacking on him as far transcended his wildest dreams 
of the weight, power, and pertinacity of the human arm. 

The words Richard Bassett had shot her flying with 
were these: “ Too late ! I’ve seen the parson’s brat.” 

Richard Bassett mounted his horse, and rode over to 
Wheeler, for he could no longer wheedle the man of law 
over to Highmore, and I will say briefly why. 

1st. About three years ago, an old lady, one of his 
few clients, left him three thousand pounds, —just reward 
of a very little law and a vast deal of gossip. 

2d. The head solicitor of the place got old and wanted 
a partner. Wheeler bought himself in, and thenceforth 
took his share of a good business, and by his energy 
enlarged it, though he never could found one for himself. 

3d. He married a wife. 

4th. She was a pretty woman, and blessed with jeal¬ 
ousy of a just and impartial nature. She was equally 
jealous of women, men, books, business, anything that 
took her husband from her. 

No more sleeping out at Highmore ; no more protracted 
potations ; no more bachelor tricks for Wheeler. He 
still valued his old client, and welcomed him; but the 
venue was changed, so to speak. 

Richard Bassett was kept waiting in the outer office; 
but, when he did get in, he easily prevailed on Wheeler 
to send the next client or two to his partner, and give 
him a full hearing. 

Then he opened his business. “ Well,” said he, “ I’ve 
seen him at last! ” 

“ Seen him ? seen whom ? ” 

“ The boy they have set up to rob my boy of the 
estate. I’ve seen him, Wheeler, seen him close j and 
he’s as black as my hat.” 


334 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Wheeler, instead of being thunder-stricken, said 
quietly, “ Oh, is he ? Well ? ” 

“ Sir Charles is lighter than I am; Lady Bassett has 
a skin like satin, and red hair.” 

“ Red ! say auburn gilt. I never saw such lovely hair.” 

“Well,” said Richard impatiently, “then the boy has 
eyes like sloes, and a brown skin like an Italian, and 
black hair almost; it will be quite.” 

“Well,” said Wheeler, “it is not so very uncommon 
for a dark child to be born of fair parents, or vice versa. 
I once saw an urchin that was like neither father nor 
mother, but the image of his father’s grandfather, that 
died eighty years before he was born. They used to 
hold him up to the portrait.” 

Said Bassett, “ Will you admit that it is uncommon ? ” 

“ Hot so uncommon as for a high-bred lady, living in 
the country, and adored by her husband, to trifle with 
her marriage vow; for that is what you are driving at.” 

“Then we have to decide between two improbabili¬ 
ties ; will you grant me that, Mr. Wheeler ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ Then suppose I can prove fact upon fact, and coinci¬ 
dence upon coincidence, all tending one way ? Are you 
so prejudiced that nothing will convince you ? ” 

“ No. But it will take a great deal; that lady’s face 
is full of purity, and she fought us like one who loved 
her husband.” 

“ Fronti nulla fides ; and, as for her fighting, her infi¬ 
delity was the weapon she defeated us with. Will you 
hear me ? ” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


335 


“ Yes, yes; but pray stick to facts and not conjectures.” 

“ Then don’t interrupt me with childish arguments. 

“Fact 1. Both reputed parents fair; the boy as 
black as the ace of spades. 

“ Fact 2. A handsome young fellow was always buzz¬ 
ing about her ladyship, and he was a parson, and ladies 
are remarkably fond of parsons. 

“ Fact 3. This parson was of Italian breed, dark, like 
the boy. 

“ Fact 4. This dark young man left Huntercombe one 
week and my lady left it the next, and they were both in 
the city of Bath at one time. 

“ Fact 5. The lady went from Bath to London. The 
dark young man went from Bath to London.” 

“None of this is new to me,” said Wheeler quietly. 

“No; but it is the rule, in estimating coincidences, 
that each fresh one multiplies the value of the others. 
Now the boy looking so Italian is a new coincidence, and 
so is what I am going to tell you. At last I have found 
the medical man who attended Lady Bassett in London.” 

« Ah!” 

“Yes, sir ; and I have learned Fact 6. Her ladyship 
rented a house, but hired no servants, and engaged no 
nurse. She had no attendant but a lady’s-maid, no ser¬ 
vant but a sort of charwoman. 

“ Fact 7. She dismissed this doctor unusually soon, 
and gave him a very large fee. 

“ Fact 8. She concealed her address from her hus¬ 
band.” 

“ Oh! Can you prove that ? ” 

“ Certainly. Sir Charles came up to town, and had to 
hunt for her, and came to this very medical man, and 
asked for the address his wife had not given him; but, 
lo, when he got there the bird was flown. 

“ Fact 9. Following the same system of concealment, 


336 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


my lady levanted from London within ten days of her 
confinement. 

“Now, put all these coincidences together. Don’t you 
see that she had a lover, and that he was about her in 
London, and other places ? Stop ! Fact 10. Those two 
were married for years, and had no child but this equivo¬ 
cal one; and now four years and a half have passed, 
during all which time they have had none, and the young 
parson has been abroad during that period.” 

Wheeler was staggered and perplexed by this artful 
array of coincidences. 

“Now advise me,” said Bassett. 

“It is not so easy. Of course if Sir Charles was to 
die, you could claim the estate, and give them a great 
deal of pain and annoyance, but the burden of proof 
would always rest on you. My advice is not to breathe 
a syllable of this, but get a good detective, and push 
your inquiries a little further, among house-agents and 
the women they put into houses; find that charwoman, 
and see if you can pick up anything more.” 

“ Do you know such a thing as an able detective ? ” 

“ I know one that will work if I instruct him.” 

“ Instruct him then.” 

“I will.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


337 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

Lady Bassett, as her time of trial drew near, became 
despondent. 

She spoke of the future, and tried to pierce it; and in 
all these little loving speculations and anxieties there 
was no longer any mention of herself. 

This meant that she feared her husband was about to 
lose her. I put the fear in the very form it took in that 
gentle breast. 

Possessed with this dread, so natural to her situation, 
she set her house in order, and left her little legacies of 
clothes, and jewels, without the help of a lawyer; for 
Sir Charles, she knew, would respect her lightest wish. 

To him she left her all, except these trifles, and above 
all, a manuscript book. It was the history of her wed¬ 
ded life; not the bare outward history, but such a record 
of a sensitive woman’s heart as no male writer’s pen can 
approach. 

It was the nature of her face and her tongue to con¬ 
ceal ; but here, on this paper, she laid bare her heart: 
here her very subtlety operated, not to hide, but to dis¬ 
sect herself and her motives. 

But, oh, what it cost her to pen this faithful record 
of her love, her trials, her doubts, her perplexities, her 
agonies, her temptations, and her crime ! Often she 
laid down the pen, and hid her face in her hands. Often 
the scalding tears ran down that scarlet face. Often she 
writhed at her desk, and wrote on, sighing and moaning. 
Yet she persevered to the end. It was the grave that 
gave her the power, “ When he reads this,” she said, 
22 


338 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“I shall be in my tomb. Men make excuses for the 
dead. My Charles will forgive me when I am gone. He 
will know I loved him to desperation.” 

It took her many days to write: it was quite a thick 
quarto; so much may a woman feel in a year or two. 
And need I say that, to the reader of that volume, the 
mystery of her conduct was all made clear as daylight ? 
clearer far, as regards the revelation of mind and feeling, 
than I, dealer in broad facts, shall ever make it, for want 
of a woman’s mental microscope and delicate brush. 

And when this record was finished, she wrapped it 
in paper, and sealed it with many seals, and wrote on 
it: — 


“ Only for my husband’s eye. 

From her who loved him not wisely 
but too well.” 

And she took other means that even the superscription 
should never be seen of any other eye but his. It was 
some little comfort to her when the book was written. 

She never prayed to live. But she used to pray fer¬ 
vently, piteously, that her child might live, and be a 
comfort and joy to his father. 

The person employed by Wheeler discovered the 
house-agent, and the woman he had employed. 

But these added nothing to the evidence Bassett had 
collected. 

At last, however, this woman, under the influence of 
a promised reward, discovered a person who was likely 
to know more about the matter; viz., the woman who 
was in the house with Lady Bassett at the very time. 

But this woman scented gold directly. So she held 
mysterious language, declined to say a word to the officer, 
but intimated that she knew a great deal; and that the 
matter was in truth well worth looking into, and she 


A TERIilBLE TEMPTATION. 


339 


could tell some strange tales, if it was worth her 
while. 

This information was sent to Bassett. He replied that 
the woman only wanted money for her intelligence, and 
he did not blame her; he would see her next time he 
went to town, and felt sure she would complete his chain 
of evidence. This put Bichard Bassett into extravagant 
spirits. He danced his little boy on his knee, and said, 
“ I’ll run this little horse against the parson’s brat; five 
to one, and no takers.” 

Indeed, his exultation was so loud and extravagant, 
that it jarred on gentle Mrs. Bassett. As for Jessie, the 
Scotch servant, she shook her head, and said the master 
was fey. 

In the morning he started for London, still so exuber¬ 
ant and excited that the Scotchwoman implored her 
mistress not to let him go; there would be an accident 
on the railway, or something. But Mrs. Bassett knew 
her husband too well to interfere with his journeys. 

Before he drove off he demanded his little boy. 

“ He must kiss me,” said he, “ for I’m going to work 
for him. D’ye hear that, Jane ? This day makes him 
heir of Huntercombe and Bassett.” 

The nurse brought word that Master Bassett was not 
very well this morning. 

“ Let us look at him,” said Bassett. 

He got out of his gig, and went to the nursery. He 
found his little boy had a dry cough, with a little flush¬ 
ing. 

“It is not much,” said he; “ but I’ll send the doctor 
over from the town.” 

He did so, and himself proceeded up to London. 

The doctor came, and, finding the boy labored in 
breathing, administered a full dose of ipecacuanha. This 
relieved the child for the time; but, about four in the 


340 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


afternoon, he was distressed again, and began to cough 
with a peculiar grating sound. 

Then there was a cry of dismay: “ The croup ! ” The 
doctor was gone for, and a letter posted to Richard 
Bassett, urging him to come back directly. 

The doctor tried everything, even mercury, but could 
not check the fatal discharge: it stiffened into a still 
more fatal membrane. 

When Bassett returned next afterooon in great alarm, 
he found the poor child thrusting its fingers into its 
mouth, in a vain attempt to free the deadly obstruction. 

A warm bath and strong emetics were now adminis¬ 
tered, and great relief obtained. The patient even ate 
and drank, and asked leave to get up and play with a 
new toy he had. But, as often happens in this disorder, 
a severe relapse soon came, with a spasm of the glottis 
so violent and prolonged that the patient at last resigned 
the struggle. Then pain ceased forever; the heavenly 
smile came; the breath went; and nothing was left in 
the little white bed but a fair piece of tinted clay, that 
must return to the dust, and carry thither all the pride, 
the hopes, the boasts, of the stricken father, who had 
schemed, and planned, and counted without Him in 
whose hands are the issues of life and death. 

As for the child himself, his lot was a happy one, if 
we could but see what the world is really worth. He 
was always a bright child, that never cried, nor com¬ 
plained : his first trouble was his last; one day’s pain, 
then bliss eternal: he never got poisoned by his father’s 
spirit of hate, but loved and was beloved during his little 
lifetime; and, dying, he passed from his Noah’s ark to 
an inheritance a thousand times richer than Hunter- 
combe, Bassett, and all his cousin’s lands. 

The little grave was dug, the bell tolled, and a man 
bowed double with grief saw his child and his ambition 
laid in the dust. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


341 


Lady Bassett heard the bell tolled, and spoke but two 
words: “ Poor woman! ” 

She might well say so. Mrs. Bassett was in the same 
condition as herself, yet this heavy blow must fall on 
her. 

As for Bichard Bassett, he sat at home, bowed down 
and stupid with grief. 

Wheeler came one day to console him; but, at the 
sight of him refrained from idle words. He sat down 
by him for an hour, in silence. Then he got up and said 
“ Good-by.” 

“ Thank you, old friend, for not insulting me,” said 
Bassett, in a broken voice. 

Wheeler took his hand, and turned away his head, and 
so went away, with a tear in his eye. 

A fortnight after this he came again, and found Bas¬ 
sett in the same attitude, but not in the same leaden 
stupor. On the contrary, he was in a state of tremor; 
he had lost under the late blow the sanguine mind that 
used to carry him through everything. 

The doctor was up-stairs, and his wife’s fate trembled 
in the balance. 

“ Stay by me,” said he, “ for all my nerve is gone. I’m 
afraid I shall lose her; for I have just begun to value 
her; and that is how God deals with His creatures, — 
the merciful God as they call Him.” 

Wheeler thought it rather hard God Almighty should 
be blamed because Dick Bassett had taken eight years 
to find out his wife’s merit; but he forbore to say so. 
He said kindly that he would stay. 

Now, while they sat in trying suspense, the church 
bells struck up a merry peal. 

Bassett started violently, and his eyes gave a strange 
glare. 

“ That’s the other! ” said he; for he had heard about 
Lady Bassett by this time. 


342 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Then lie turned pale. “ They ring for him : then they 
are sure to toll for me.” 

This foreboding was natural enough in a man so blinded 
by egotism as to fancy that all creation, and the Creator 
himself, must take a side in Bassett v. Bassett. 

Nevertheless events did not justify that foreboding. 
The bells had scarcely done ringing for the happy event 
at Huntercombe, when joyful feet were heard running 
on the stairs; joyful voices clashed together in the pass- 
sage, and in came a female servant, with joyful tidings. 
Mrs. Bassett was safe, and the child in the world. “ The 
loveliest little girl you ever saw! ” 

“ A girl! ” cried Bichard Bassett, with contemptuous 
amazement. Even his melancholy forebodings had not 
gone that length. “ And what have they got at Hunter¬ 
combe ? ” 

“ Oh, it is a boy, sir, there.” 

“ Of course.” 

The ringers heard, and sent one of their number to ask 
him if they should ring. 

“ What for ? ” asked Bassett, with a nasty glittering 
eye; and then, with sudden fury, he seized a large piece 
of wood from the basket to fling at his insulter. “ I’ll 
teach you to come and mock me.” 

The ringer vanished ducking. 

“ Gently,” said Wheeler, “ gently.” 

Bassett chucked the wood back into the basket, and 
sat down gloomily, saying, “ Then how dare he come 
and talk about ringing bells for a girl ? To think that 
I should have all this fright, and my wife all this trouble 
— for a girl! ” 

It was no time to talk of business then; but about a 
fortnight afterwards, Wheeler said, “ I took the detective 
off, to save you expense.” 

“ Quite right,” said Bassett, wearily. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


343 


“ I gave you the woman’s address ; so the matter is in 
your hands now, I consider.” 

“ Yes,” said Bassett, wearily. “ Move no farther in it.” 

“ Certainly not; and, frankly, I should be glad to see 
you abandon it.” 

“ I have abandoned it. Why should I stir the mud 
now ? I and mine are thrown out forever; the only 
question is, shall a son of Sir Charles or the parson’s son 
inherit ? I’m for the wrongful heir. Ay,” he cried, 
starting up, and beating the air with his fists in sudden 
fury, “ since the right Bassetts are never to have it, let 
the wrong Bassetts be thrown out, at all events ; I’m on 
my back, but Sir Charles is no better off; a bastard will 
succeed him, thanks to that cursed woman who defeated 
meP 

This turn took Wheeler by surprise. It also gave 
him real pain. “ Bassett,” said he, “ I pity you. What 
sort of a life has yours been for the last eight years ? 
Yet, when there’s no fuel left for war and hatred, you 
blow the embers. You are incurable.” 

“I am,” said Bichard. “I’ll hate those two with my 
last breath, and curse them in my last prayer.” 


344 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Lady Bassett’s forebodings, like most of our insights 
into the future, were confuted by the event. 

She became the happy mother of a flaxen-haired boy. 
She insisted on nursing him herself; and the experienced 
persons who attended her raised no objection. 

In connection with this, she gave Sir Charles a peck, 
not very severe, but sudden, and remarkable as the only 
one on record. 

He was contemplating her and her nursling with the 
deepest affection, and happened to say, “ My own Bella, 
what delight it gives me to see you! ” 

“Yes,” said she, “we will have only one mother this 
time, will we, my darling ? and it shall be me.” Then 
suddenly, turning her head like a snake, “ Oh, I saw the 
look you gave that woman! ” 

This was the famous peck, administered in return for 
a look that he had bestowed on Mary Gosport, not more 
than five years ago. 

Sir Charles would, doubtless, have bled to death on the 
spot, but, either he had never been aware how he looked, 
or time and business had obliterated the impression, for 
he was unaffectedly puzzled, and said, “ What woman do 
you mean, dear ? ” 

“No matter, darling,” said Lady Bassett, who had 
already repented her dire severity : “ all I say is, that a 
nurse is a rival I could not endure now; and, another 
thing, I do believe those wet-nurses give their disposi¬ 
tions to the child: it is dreadful to think of.” 

“Well, if so, baby is safe. He will be the most 
amiable boy in England.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


345 


“ He shall be more amiable than I am — scolding my 
husband of husbands/’ and she leaned towards him, 
baby and all, for a kiss from his lips. 

We say at school, u Seniores prior es” let favor go 
by seniority; but where babies adorn the scene, it is 
“ juniores prior es” with that sex to which the very 
young are confided. 

To this rule, as might be expected, Lady Bassett fur¬ 
nished no exception; she was absorbed in baby, and 
trusted Mr. Bassett a good deal to his attendant, who 
bore an excellent character for care and attention. 

Now Mr. Bassett was strong on his pins and in his 
will, and his nurse-maid, after all, was young; so he 
used to take his walks, nearly every day, to Mrs. 
Meyrick’s: she petted him enough, and spoiled him in 
every way, while the nurse-maid was flirting with her 
farm-servants out of sight. 

Sir Charles Bassett was devoted to the boy, and used 
always to have him to his study in the morning, and to 
the drawing-room after dinner, when the party was 
small, and that happened much oftener now than hereto¬ 
fore : but, at other hours, he did not look after him, 
being a business man, and considering him at that age 
to be under his mother’s care. 

One day the only guest was Mr. Bolfe; he was stay¬ 
ing in the house for three days, upon a condition sug¬ 
gested by himself, that he might enjoy his friend’s 
society in peace and comfort, and not be set to roll the 
stone of conversation up some young lady’s back, and 
obtain monosyllables in reply, faintly lisped amidst a 
clatter of fourteen knives and forks. As he would not 
leave his writing-table on any milder terms, they took 
him on these. 

After dinner, in came Mr. Bassett, erect, and a proud 
nurse with little Compton, just able to hold his nurse’s 
gown and toddle. 


346 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Rolfe did not care for small children; he just glanced 
at the angelic fair-haired infant, but his admiring gaze 
rested on the elder boy. 

“ Why, what is here ? an Oriental Prince ? ” 

The boy ran to him directly. “ Who are you ? ” 

“ Rolfe the writer. Who are you? The Gypsy 
King?” 

“No; but I am very fond of gypsies. I’m Mister 
Bassett, and when papa dies, I shall be Sir Charles 
Bassett.” 

Sir Charles laughed at this with paternal fatuity, 
especially as the boy’s name happened to be Reginald 
Francis, after his grandfather. 

Rolfe smiled satirically, for these little speeches from 
children did much to reconcile him to his lot. 

“ Meantime,” said he, “ let us feed off him; for it may 
be forty years before we can dance over his grave. First 
let us see what is the unwholesomest thing on the 
table.” 

He rose, and, to the infinite delight of Mr. Bassett, 
and even of Master Compton, who pointed and crowed 
from his mother’s lap, he got up on his chair, and put on 
a pair of spectacles to look. 

“Eureka!” said he; “behold that dish by Lady 
Bassett, those are marrons glaces : fetch them here, and 
let us go in for a fit of the gout at once.” 

“ Gout! what’s that ? ” inquired Mr. Bassett. 

“ Don’t ask me.” 

“ You don’t know.” 

“ Not know! What, didn’t I tell you I was Rolfe the 
writer ? Writers know everything. That is what makes 
them so modest.” 

Mr. Bassett was now unnaturally silent, for five min¬ 
utes, munching chestnuts: this enabled his guests to 
converse; but, as soon as he had cleared his plate, he 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


347 


cut right across the conversation, with that savage con¬ 
tempt for all topics but his own, which characterizes 
gentlemen of his age, and says he to Rolfe, “You know 
everything ? then what’s a parson’s brat ? ” 

“ Well, that’s the one thing I don’t know,” said Rolfe; 
“ but a brat I take to be a boy who interrupts ladies and 
gentlemen with nonsense when they are talking sense.” 

“I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Rolfe,” said 
Lady Bassett. “ That remark was very much needed.” 

Then she called Reginald to her, and lectured him 
sotto voce, to the same tune. 

“You old bachelors are rather hard,” said Sir Charles, 
not very well pleased. 

“We are obliged to be; you parents are so soft. 
After all it is no wonder: what a superb boy it is! — 
Ah, here is nurse. I’m so sorry. Now we shall be 
cabined, cribbed, confined to rational conversation, and 
I shall not be expected to — good-night, little flaxen 
angel; good-by, handsome and loquacious demon; kiss 
and be friends — expected to know, all in a minute, 
what is a parson’s brat. By-the-by, talking of parsons, 
what has become of Angelo ? ” 

“ He has been away a good many years. Consump¬ 
tion, I hear.” 

“ He was a fine-built fellow, too; was he not, Lady 
Bassett ? ” 

“I don’t know; but he was beautifully strong. I 
think I see him now, carrying dear Charles in his arms 
all down the garden.” 

“ Ah, you see he was raised in an university that does 
not do things by halves, but trains both body and mind, 
as they did at Athens; for the union of study and 
athletic sports is spoken of as a novelty, but it is only a 
return to antiquity.” 

Here letters were brought by the second post. Sir 


348 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Charles glanced at his, and sent them to his study. Lady 
Bassett had but one. She said, “ May I ? ” to both gentle¬ 
men, and then opened. 

“ How strange ! ” said she. “ It is from Mr. Angelo, 
just a line to say he is coming home quite cured.” 

She began this composedly, but blushed afterwards — 
blushed quite red. 

“ May I ? ” said she, and tossed it delicately half-way 
to Rolfe. He handed it to Sir Charles. 

Some remarks were then made about the coincidence, 
and nothing further passed worth recording at that 
time. 

Next day Lady Bassett, with instinctive curiosity, 
asked Master Reginald how he came to put such a ques¬ 
tion as that to Mr. Rolfe. 

“ Because I wanted to know.” 

“ But what put such words into your head ? I never 
heard a gentleman say such words; and you must never 
say them again, Reginald.” 

“ Tell me what it means, and I won’t,” said he. 

“ Oh,” said Lady Bassett, “ since you bargain with me, 
sir, I must bargain with you. Tell me first where you 
ever heard such words.” 

“When I was staying at nurse’s. Ah, that was 
jolly!” 

“ You liked that better than being here ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ I am sorry for that. Well, dear, did nurse say that ? 
Surely not ? ” 

“Oh, no; it was the man.” 

“ What man ? ” 

“ Why, the man that came to the gate one morning, 
and talked to me, and I talked to him, and that nasty 
nurse ran out, and caught us, and carried me in, and 
gave me such a hiding, and all for nothing.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


349 


" A hiding! What words the poor child picks up! 
But I don’t understand why nurse should beat you” 

“For speaking to the man. She said he was a bad 
man, and she would kill me if ever I spoke to him 
again.” 

“ Oh, it was a bad man, and said bad words — to some¬ 
body he was quarrelling with ? ” 

“No, he said them to nurse, because she took me 
away.” 

“ What did he say, Reginald ? ” asked Lady Bassett, 
becoming very grave and thoughtful all at once. 

“He said, ‘ That’s too late. I’ve seen the parson’s 
brat.’ ” 

“Oh!” 

“ And I’ve asked nurse again and again what it meant, 
but she won’t tell me. She only says the man is a liar, 
and I am not to say it again; and so I never did say it 
again — for a long time; but, last night, when Rolfe the 
writer said he knew everything, it struck my head — 
What is the matter, mamma ? ” 

“Nothing, nothing.” 

“ You look so white. Are you ill, mamma ? ” and he 
went to put his arms round her, which was a mighty 
rare thing with him. 

She trembled a good deal, and did not either embrace 
him or repel him. She only trembled. 

After some time she recovered herself enough to say, 
in a voice and with a manner that impressed itself at 
once on this sharp boy, “ Reginald, your nurse was quite 
right. Understand this: the man was your enemy, and 
mine; the words he said you must not say again. It 
would be like taking up dirt and flinging some on your 
own face and some on mine.” 

“I won’t do that,” said the boy, firmly. “Are you 
afraid of the man, that you look so white ? ” 


350 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ A man with a woman’s tongue — who can help fear¬ 
ing ? ” 

“ Don’t you be afraid; as soon as I’m big enough, I’ll 
kill him.” 

Lady Bassett looked with surprise at the child; he 
uttered this resolve with such a steady resolution. 

She drew him to her, and kissed him on the forehead. 

“No, Reginald,” said she; “we must not shed blood 
— it is as wicked to kill our enemies as to kill any one 
else. But never speak to him, never even listen to him; 
if he tries to speak to you, run away from him and don’t 
let him — he is our enemy.” 

That same day she went to Mrs. Meyrick, to examine 
her. But she found the boy had told her all there was 
to tell. 

Mrs. Meyrick, whose affection for her was not dimin¬ 
ished, was downright vexed. “ Dear me! ” said she, “ I 
did think I had kept that from vexing of you. To think 
of the dear child hiding it for nigh two years, and then 
to blurt it out like that! Nobody heard him, I hope ? ” 

“ Others heard; but ” — 

“ Didn’t heed; the Lord be praised for that.” 

“ Mary,” said Lady Bassett, solemnly, “ I am not equal 
to another battle with Mr. Richard Bassett — and such a 
battle! Better tell all, and die.” 

“Don’t think of it,” said Mary. “You’re safe from 
Richard Bassett, now. Times are changed since he came 
spying to my gate. His own boy is gone. You have 
got two. He’ll lie quiet, if you do. But, if you tell 
your tale, he must hear on’t, and he’ll tell his. For 
God’s sake, my lady, keep close. It is the curse of 
women, that they can’t just hold their tongues, and see 
how things turn. And is this a time to spill good 
liquor ? Look at Sir Charles ! why, he is another man; 
he have got flesh on his bones now, and color into his 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


351 


cheeks, and ’twas you and I made a man of him. It is 
my belief you’d never have had this other little angel, 
but for us having sense and courage to see what must be 
done. Knock down our own work, and send him wild 
again, and give that Richard Bassett a handle ? You’ll 
never be so mad.” 

Lady Bassett replied. The other answered; and so 
powerfully, that Lady Bassett yielded, and went home 
sick at heart, but helpless, and in a sea of doubt. 

Mr. Angelo did not call. Sir Charles asked Lady 
Bassett if he had called on her. 

She said, “No.” 

“ That is odd,” said Sir Charles. “ Perhaps he thinks 
we ought to welcome him home. Write and ask him to 
dinner.” 

“ Yes, dear. Or you can write.” 

“Very well, I will. No, I will call.” 

Sir Charles called, and welcomed him home, and asked 
him to dinner. Angelo received him rather stiffly at 
first, but accepted his invitation. 

He came, looking a good deal older and graver, but 
almost as handsome as ever; only somewhat changed in 
mind. He had become a zealous clergyman; and his 
soul appeared to be in his work. He was distant and 
very respectful to Lady Bassett; I might say obsequious. 
Seemed almost afraid of her at first. 

That wore off in a few months; but he was never 
quite so much at his ease with her as he had been before 
he left some years ago. 

And so did time roll on. 

Every morning and every night, Lady Bassett used to 
look wistfully at Sir Charles and say, “ Are you happy, 
dear ? Are you sure you are happy ? ” 

And he used always to say, and with truth, that he 
was the happiest man in England, thanks to her. 


352 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Then she used to relax the wild and wistful look with 
which she asked the question, and gave a sort of sigh, 
half content, half resignation. 

In due course another fine boy came, and filled the 
royal office of baby in his turn. But my story does not 
follow him. 

Beginald was over ten years old, and Compton nearly 
six. They were as different in character as complexion, 
both remarkable boys. 

Beginald, Sir Charles’s favorite, was a wonderful boy 
for riding, running, talking; and had a downright genius 
for melody; he whistled to the admiration of the village, 
and latterly he practised the fiddle in woods, and under 
hedges, being aided and abetted therein by a gypsy boy, 
whom he loved, and who, indeed, provided the instru¬ 
ment. 

He rode with Sir Charles, and rather liked him; his 
brother he never noticed, except to tease him. Lady 
Bassett he admired, and almost loved her while she was 
in the act of playing him undeniable melodies. But he 
liked his nurse Meyrick better on the whole; she flat¬ 
tered him more, and was more uniformly subservient. 

With these two exceptions he despised the whole race 
of women, and affected male society only, especially of 
grooms, stable-boys, and gypsies; these last welcomed 
him to their tents, and almost prostrated themselves 
before him, so dazzled were they by his beauty and his 
color. It is believed they suspected him of having 
gypsy blood in his veins. They let him into their tents, 
and even into some of their secrets, and he promised 
them they should have it all their own way as soon as 
he was Sir Beginald; he had outgrown his original 
theory that he was to be Sir Charles on his father’s 
death. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


353 


He hated in-doors; when fixed, by command, to a 
book, would beg hard to be allowed to take it into the 
sun; and, at night, would open his window and poke his 
black head out to wash in the moonshine, as he said. 

He despised ladies and gentlemen, said they were all 
affected fools, and gave imitations of all his father’s 
guests, to prove it; and so keen was this child of nature’s 
eye for affectation, that very often his disapproving 
parents were obliged to confess the imp had seen with 
his fresh eye defects custom had made them overlook, 
or the solid good qualities that lay beneath had over¬ 
balanced. 

Now all this may appear amusing and eccentric, and 
so on, to strangers; but, after the first hundred laughs 
or so with which paternal indulgence dismisses the 
faults of childhood, Sir Charles became very grave. 

The boy was his darling and his pride. He was ambi¬ 
tious for him. He earnestly desired to solve for him a 
problem, which is as impossible as squaring the circle, 
viz., how to transmit our experience to our children. 
The years and the health he had wasted before he knew 
Bella Bruce, these he resolved his successor should not 
waste. He looked higher for this beautiful boy than 
for himself. He had fully resolved to be member for 
the county, one day; but he did not care about it for 
himself; it was only to pave the way for his successor; 
that Sir Beginald, after a long career in the Commons, 
might find his way into the House of Peers, and so 
obtain dignity in exchange for antiquity; for, to tell the 
truth, the ancestors of four-fifths of the British House 
of Peers had been hewers of wood and drawers of 
water, at a time when these Bassetts had already been 
gentlemen of distinction for centuries. 

All this love and this vicarious ambition were now 
mortified daily. Some fathers could do wonders for a 
23 


354 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


brilliant boy, and with him. They expect him, and a 
dull boy appears; that is a bitter pill, but this was 
worse. Reginald was a sharp boy. He could do any¬ 
thing. Fasten him to a book for twenty minutes, he 
would learn as much as most boys in an hour; but there 
was no keeping him to it, unless you strapped him or 
nailed him; for he had the will of a mule, and the sup¬ 
pleness of an eel to carry out his will. And then his 
tastes — low, as his features were refined. He was a 
sort of moral dung-fork; picked up all the slang of the 
stable, and scattered it in the dining-room and drawing¬ 
room ; and once or twice he stole out of his comfortable 
room at night, and slept in a gypsy’s tent, with his arm 
round a gypsy boy unsullied from his cradle by soap. 

At last Sir Charles could no longer reply to his wife 
at night, as he had done for this ten years past: he was 
obliged to confess that there was one cloud upon his 
happiness. “ Dear Reginald grieves me, and makes me 
dread the future; for, if the child is father to the man, 
there is a bitter disappointment in store for us. He is 
like no other boy; he is like no human creature I ever 
saw; at his age, and long after, I was a fool; I was a 
fool till I knew you; but surely I was a gentleman. I 
cannot see myself again, in my first-born.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


355 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

Lady Bassett was paralyzed for a minute or two by 
this speech. At last she replied by asking a question — 
rather a curious one. “ Who nursed you, Charles ? ” 

“ What, when I was a baby ? How can I tell ? Yes, 
by-the-by, it was my mother nursed me — so I was told.” 

“And your mother was a Le Compton. This poor boy 
was nursed by a servant. Oh, she has some good quali¬ 
ties, and certainly devoted to us — to this day her face 
brightens at sight of me — but she is essentially vulgar ; 
and do you remember, Charles, I wished to wean him 
early: but I was overruled, and the poor child drew his 
nature from that woman for nearly eighteen months ; it 
is a thing unheard of nowadays.” 

“ Well, but surely it is from our parents we draw our 
nature.” 

“ No; I think it is from our nurses. If Compton or 
Alec ever turn out like Reginald, blame nobody but their 
nurse, and that is me.” 

Sir Charles smiled faintly at this piece of feminine 
l©gic, and asked her what he should do. 

She said she was quite unable to advise. Mr. Rolfe 
was coming to see them soon, perhaps he might be able 
to suggest something. 

Sir Charles said he would consult him; but he was 
clear on one thing, the boy must be sent from Hunter- 
combe, and so separated from all his present acquaint¬ 
ances. 

Mr. Rolfe came, and the distressed father opened his 
heart to him in strict confidence respecting Reginald. 


356 


A TEEltIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Rolfe listened and sympathized, and knit his brow, 
and asked time to consider what he had heard, and also 
to study the boy for himself. 

He angled for him next day accordingly. A little 
table was taken out on the lawn, and presently Mr. 
Rolfe issued forth in a uniform suit of dark blue flannel 
and a sombrero hat, and set to work writing a novel in 
the sun. 

Reginald in due course descried this figure, and it 
smacked so of that Bohemia to which his own soul be¬ 
longed, that he was attracted thereby, but made his 
approaches stealthily like a little cat. 

Presently a fiddle went off behind a tree, so close that 
the novelist leaped out of his seat with an eldrich 
screech; for he had long ago forgotten all about Mr. 
Reginald, and, when he got heated in this kind of com¬ 
position, any sudden sound seemed to his tense nerves 
and boiling brain about ten times as loud as it really was. 

Having relieved himself by a yell, he sat down with 
the mien of a martyr expecting tortures ; but he was 
most agreeably disappointed; the little monster played 
an English melody, and played it in tune. This done, 
he whistled a quick tune and played a slow second to it 
in perfect harmony; this done, he whistled the second 
part and played the quick treble; a very simple feat, but 
still ingenious for a boy, and new to his hearer. 

“ Bravo ! bravo ! ” cried Rolfe with all his heart. 

Mr. Reginald emerged, radiant with vanity. “You 
are like me, Mr. Writer, 1 ” said he; “ you don’t like to be 
cooped up in-doors.” 

“I wish I could play the fiddle like you, my fine 
fellow.” 

“ Ah, you can’t do that all in a minute; see the time 
I have been at it.” 

“ Ah, to be sure, I forgot your antiquity.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 357 

“ And it isn’t the time only; it’s giving your mind _ to 
it, old chap.” 

“ What, you don’t give your mind to your books then, 
as you do to your fiddle, young gentleman.” 

“Not such a flat. Why, lookee here, governor, if you 
go and give your mind to a thing you don’t like, it’s 
always time wasted, because some other chap that does 
like it, will beat you, and what’s the use working for to 
be beat ? ” 

“ ‘ For ’ is redundant,” objected Bolfe. 

“ But if you stick hard to the things you like, you do 
’em downright well. But old people are such fools, they 
always drive you the wrong way. They make the gals 
play music six hours a day, and you might as well set 
the hen bullfinches to pipe. Look at the gals as come 
here, how they rattle up and down the piano, and can’t 
make it sing a morsel. Why, they couldn’t rattle like 

that, if they’d music in their skins, d-n ’em; and 

they drive me to those stupid books, because I’m all for 
music and moonshine. Can you keep a secret ? ” 

“As the tomb.” 

“Well, then, I can do plenty of things well, besides 
fiddling; I can set a wire with any poacher in the 
parish. I have caught plenty of our old man’s hares, in 
my time; and it takes a workman to set a wire as 
should be. Show me a wire, and I’ll tell you whether 
it was Hudson, or Whitbeck, or Squinting Jack, or who 
it was that set it. I know all their work that walks by 
moonlight hereabouts.” 

“ This is criticism; a science: I prefer art; play me 
another tune, my bold Bohemian.” 

“Ah, I thought I should catch you with my fiddle. 
You’re not such a muff as the others, old un, not by a 
long chalk. Hang me, if I won’t give ye ‘Ireland’s 
Music,’ and I’ve sworn never to waste that on a fool.” 


358 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


He played the old Irish air so simply and tunably, 
that Rolfe leaned back in his chair, with half-closed 
eyes, in soft voluptuous ecstasy. 

The youngster watched him, with his coal-black eye. 

“I like you,” said he, “better than I thought I should, 
a precious sight.” 

“ Highly flattered.” 

“ Come with me and hear my nurse sing it.” 

“What, and leave my novel ? ” 

“ Oh, bother your novel! ” 

“ And so I will. That will be tit for tat; it has 
bothered me. Lead on, Bohemian bold.” 

The boy took him over hedge and ditch, the short cut 
to Meyrick’s farm ; and caught Mrs. Meyrick, and said 
she must sing “ Ireland’s Music ” to Rolfe the writer. 

Mrs. Meyrick apologized for her dress, and affected 
shyness about singing; Mr. Reginald stared at first, 
then let her know that if she was going to be affected, 
like the girls that came to the Hall, he should hate her, 
as he did them, and this he confirmed with a naughty 
word. 

Thus threatened, she came to book, and sang Ireland’s 
melody in a low, rich, sonorous voice ; Reginald played 
a second: the harmony was so perfect and strong, that 
certain glass candelabra on the mantelpiece rang loudly, 
and the drops vibrated. Then he made her sing the 
second, and he took the treble with his violin; and he 
wound up by throwing in a third part himself, a sort of 
counter-tenor, his own voice being much higher than the 
woman’s. 

The tears stood in Rolfe’s eyes. “Well,” said he, 
“you have got the soul of music, you two. I could 
listen to you ‘ From morn till noon, from noon till dewy 
eve.’ ” 

As they returned to Huntercombe, this mercurial 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


359 


youth went off at a tangent, and Rolfe saw him no more. 
He wrote in peace, and walked about between the 
heats. 

Just before dinner-time, the screams of women were 
heard hard by, and the writer hurried to the place, in 
time to see Mr. Bassett hanging by the shoulder from 
the branch of a tree, about twenty feet from the ground. 

Rolfe halloed, as he ran, to the women to fetch 
blankets to catch him, and got under the tree, deter¬ 
mined to try and catch him in his arms, if necessary; 
but he encouraged the boy to hold on. 

“All right, governor,” said the boy, in a quavering 
voice. 

It was very near the kitchen ; maids and men poured 
out with blankets; four people held one, under Rolfe’s 
direction, and down came Mr. Bassett in a semicircle, 
and bounded up again off the blanket like an India- 
rubber ball. 

His quick mind recovered courage the moment he 
touched wool. 

“Crikey! that’s jolly,” said he; “give me another 
toss or two.” 

“ Oh, no ! no ! ” said a good-natured maid. “ Take an’ 
put him to bed right off, poor dear.” 

“Hold your tongue, ye bitch,” said young hopeful; 
“ if ye don’t toss me, I’ll turn ye all off as soon as ever 
the old un kicks the bucket.” 

Thus menaced, they thought it prudent to toss him; 
but, at the third toss, he yelled out: 

« Oh! oh! oh ! I’m all wet; it’s blood. I’m dead.” 

Then they examined, and found his arm was severely 
lacerated by an old nail that had been driven into the 
tree, and it had torn the flesh in his fall; he was covered 
with blood, the sight of which quenched his manly spirit, 
and he began to howl. 


360 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Old linen rag, warm water, and a bottle of port,” 
shouted Rolfe; the servants flew. 

Rolfe dressed and bandaged the wound for him, and 
then he felt faint; the port soon set that right; and 
then he wanted to get drunk — alleging, as a reason, 
that he had not been drunk for this two months. 

Sir Charles was told of the accident, and was dis¬ 
tressed by it, and also by the cause. 

“ Rolfe,” said he sorrowfully, “ there is a ring-dove’s 
nest on that tree; she and hers have built there in peace 
and safety for a hundred years, and cooed about the 
place. My unhappy boy was climbing the tree to take 
tiie young, after solemnly promising me that he never 
would: that is the bitter truth. What shall I do with 
the young barbarian ? ” 

He sighed, and Lady Bassett echoed the sigh. 

Said Rolfe, “The young barbarian, as you call him, 
has disarmed me; he plays the fiddle like a civilized 
angel.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Rolfe ! ” 

“ What, you his mother, and not found that out yet ? 
Oh, yes, he has a heaven-born genius for music.” 

Rolfe then related the musical feats of the urchin. 

Sir Charles begged to observe that this talent would 
go a very little way towards fitting him to succeed his 
father and keep up the credit of an ancient family. 

“ Dear Charles, Mr. Rolfe knows that; but it is like 
him to make the best of things to encourage us. But 
what do you think of him on the whole, Mr. Rolfe? 
Has Sir Charles more to hope or to fear ? ” 

“Give me another day or two to study him,’ said 
Rolfe. 

That night there was a loud alarm. Mr. Bassett was 
running about the veranda in his night-dress. 

They caught him, and got him to bed, and Rolfe said 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


3(>1 


it was fever; and, with the assistance of Sir Charles and 
a footman, laid him between two towels steeped in tepid 
water, then drew blankets tight over him, and, in short, 
packed him. 

“ Ah! ” said he complacently: “ I say, give me a drink 
of moonshine, old chap.” 

“ I’ll give you a bucketful,” said Eolfe; then with the 
servant’s help, took his little bed and put it close to the 
window; the moonlight streamed in on the boy’s face; 
his great black eyes glittered in it. He was diabolically 
beautiful. “Kiss me, moonshine,” said he; “I like to 
wash in you.” 

Next day he was apparently quite well, and certainly 
ripe for fresh mischief. Eolfe studied him, and the even¬ 
ing before he went, gave Sir Charles and Lady Bassett his 
opinion, but not with his usual alacrity; a weight seemed 
to hang on him, and, more than once, his voice trembled. 

“ I shall tell you,” said he, “ what I see — what I fore¬ 
see — and then, with great diffidence, what I advise. 

“I see what naturalists call a reversion in race; a boy 
who resembles in color and features neither of his par¬ 
ents, and, indeed, bears little resemblance to any of the 
races that have inhabited England since history was 
written. He suggests, rather, some Oriental type.” 

Sir Charles turned round in his chair with a sigh, and 
said, “We are to have a romance, it seems.” 

Lady Bassett stared with all her eyes, and began to 
change color. 

The theorist continued, with perfect composure: “ I 
don’t undertake to account for it, with any precision. 
How can I ? Perhaps there is Moorish blood in your 
family, and here it has revived: you look incredulous, 
but there are plenty of examples, ay, and stronger than 
this; every child that is born resembles some progen¬ 
itor: how then do you account for Julia Pastrana, a 


362 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


young lady who dined with me last week, and sang me 
‘ Ah, perdona,’ rather feebly, in the evening. Bust and 
figure like any other lady, hands exquisite, arms neatly 
turned, but with long silky hair from the elbow to the 
wrist. Face, ugh! forehead made of black leather, eyes 
all pupil, nose an excrescence, chin pure monkey, face all 
covered with hair; briefly, a type extinct ten thousand 
years before Adam, yet it could revive at this time of 
day. Compared with La Pastrana, and many much 
weaker examples of antiquity revived, that I have seen, 
your Mauritanian son is no great marvel after all.” 

“ This is a little too far-fetched,” said Sir Charles satir¬ 
ically ; “ Bella’s father was a very dark man, and it is a 
tradition in our family that all the Bassetts were as 
black as ink, till they married with you Rolfes, in the 
year 1684.” 

“ Oho ! ” said Bolfe, “ is it so ? See how discussion 
brings out things.” 

“ And then,” said Lady Bassett, “ Charles dear, tell 
Mr. Rolfe what I think.” 

“ Ay, do,” said Rolfe; “ that will be a new form of 
circumlocution.” 

Sir Charles complied with a smile. “ Lady Bassett’s 
theory is, that children derive their nature quite as much 
from their wet-nurses as from their parents, and she 
thinks the faults we deplore in Reginald are to be traced 
to his nurse; by-the-by, she is a dark woman too.” 

“Well,” said Rolfe, “there’s a good deal of truth in 
that, as far as regards the disposition. But I never 
heard color so accounted for; yet why not ? It has 
been proved that the very bones of young animals can 
be colored pink, by feeding them on milk so colored.” 

“ There ! ” said Lady Bassett. 

“But no nurse could give your son a color which is 
not her own. I have seen the woman: she is only a 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 363 

dark Englishwoman. Her arms were embrowned by 
exposure, but her forehead was not brown. Mr. Kegi- 
nald is quite another thing. The skin of his body, the 
white of his eye, the pupil, all look like a reversion to 
some Oriental type y q,nd, mark the coincidence; he has 
mental peculiarities that point towards the East.” 

Sir Charles lost patience. “ On the contrary,” said he, 
“ he talks and feels just like an English snob, and makes 
me miserable.” 

u Oh, as to that, he has picked up vulgar phrases at 
that farm, and in your stables; but he has never picked 
up his musical genius in stables and farms, far less his 
poetry.” 

“ What poetry ? ” 

“What poetry ? Why, did not you hear him ? Was it 
not poetical of a wounded, fevered boy to beg to be laid by 
the window and to say, ‘Let me drink the moonshine’ ? 
Take down your Homer, and read a thousand lines hap¬ 
hazard, and see whether you stumble over a thought 
more poetical than that. But criticism does not exist; 
whatever the dead said was good; whatever the living 
say is little; as if the dead were a race apart, and had 
never been the living, and the living would never be the 
dead.” 

Heaven knows where he was running to now, but Sir 
Charles stopped him, by conceding that point. “ Well, 
you are right: poor child, it was poetical,” and the 
father’s pride predominated, for a moment, over every 
other sentiment. 

“Yes; but where did it come from? That looks to 
me a typical idea; I mean an idea derived, not from his 
luxurious parents, dwellers in curtained mansions, but 
from some out-door and remote ancestor; perhaps from 
the Oriental tribe that first colonized Britain; they wor¬ 
shipped the sun and the moon, no doubt; or, perhaps, 


364 


A TEBTIIBLE TEMPTATTON. 


after all, it only came from some wandering tribe that 
passed their lives between the two lights of heaven, and 
never set foot in a human dwelling.” 

“This,” said Sir Charles, “is a flattering speculation, 
but so wild and romantic, that I fear it will lead us to 
no practical result. I thought you undertook to advise 
me. What advice can you build on these cobwebs of 
your busy brain ? ” 

“Excuse me, my practical friend,” said Rolfe. “I 
opened my discourse in three heads. What I see — 
what I foresee — and what, with diffidence, I advise. 
Pray don’t disturb my methodus, or I am done for; 
never disturb an artist’s form. I have told you what I 
see. What I foresee is this: you will have to cut off 
the entail, with Reginald’s consent, when he is of age, 
and make the Saxon boy Compton your successor. Cut¬ 
ting off entails runs in families, like everything else; 
your grandfather did it, and so will you. You should 
put by a few thousands every year, that you may be 
able to do this without injustice either to your Oriental 
or your Saxon son.” 

“Never!” shouted Sir Charles: then, in a broken 
voice, “He is my first-born, and my idol; his coming 
into the world rescued me out of a morbid condition: he 
healed my one great grief. Bar the entail, and put his 
younger brother in his place — never ! ” 

Mr. Rolfe bowed his head politely, and left the sub¬ 
ject, which indeed could be carried no further without 
serious offence. 

“And now for my advice. The question is, how to 
educate this strange boy. One thing is clear; it is no 
use trying the humdrum plan any longer; it has been 
tried and failed. I should adapt his education to his 
nature. Education is made as stiff and unyielding as a 
board, but it need not be. I should abolish that spec- 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


365 


tacled tutor of yours at once, and get a tutor, young, 
enterprising, manly, and supple, who would obey orders ; 
and the order should be to observe the boy’s nature, and 
teach accordingly. Why need men teach in a chair, and 
hoys learn in a chair ? The Athenians studied not in 
chairs. The Peripatetics, as their name imports, hunted 
knowledge afoot; those who sought truth in the groves 
of Academus, were not seated at that work. Then let 
the tutor walk with him, and talk with him by sunlight 
and moonlight, relating old history, and commenting on 
each new thing that is done, or word spoken, and im¬ 
prove every occasion. Why, I myself would give a 
guinea a day to walk with William White about the 
kindly aspects and wooded slopes of Selborne, or with 
Karr about his garden. Cut Latin and Greek clean out 
of the scheme. They are mere cancers to those who can 
never excel in them. Teach him not dead languages, but 
living facts. Have him in your justice-room for half an 
hour a day, and give him your own comments on what 
he has heard there. Let his tutor take him to all quar¬ 
ter sessions and assizes, and stick to him like diachylum, 
especially out of doors: order him never to be admitted 
to the stable-yard; dismiss every biped there that lets 
him come. Don’t let him visit his nurse so often, and 
never without his tutor: it was she who taught him to 
look forward to your decease; that is just like these 
common women. Such a tutor as I have described will 
deserve five hundred pounds a year. Give it him: and 
dismiss him if he plays humdrum, and doesn’t earn it. 
Dismiss half a dozen, if necessary, till you get a fellow 
with a grain or two of genius for tuition. When the boy 
is seventeen, what with his Oriental precocity, and this 
system of education, he will know the world as well as 
a Saxon boy of twenty-one, and that is not saying much. 
Then, if his nature is still as wild, get him a large tract 


366 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


in Australia; cattle to breed, kangaroos to shoot, swift 
horses to thread the bush and gallop mighty tracts; he 
will not shirk business if it avoids the repulsive form 
of sitting down in-doors, and offers itself in combination 
with riding, hunting, galloping, cracking of rifles, and of 
colonial whips as loud as rifles, and drinking sunshine 
and moonshine in that mellow clime, beneath the South¬ 
ern Cross and the spangled firmament of stars unknown 
to us.” 

His own eyes sparkled like hot coals at this Bohemian 
picture. 

Then he sighed, and returned to civilization. “ But,” 
said he, “ be ready with eighty thousand pounds for him, 
that he may enjoy his own way, and join you in barring 
the entail. I forgot, I must say no more on that subject. 
I see it is as offensive as it is inevitable. Cassandra has 
spoken wisely, and, I see, in vain. God bless you both! 
Good-night.” 

And he rolled out of the room with a certain clumsy 
importance. 

Sir Charles treated all this advice with a polite for¬ 
bearance, while he was in the room, but, on his departure, 
delivered a sage reflection. 

“ Strange,” said he, “ that a man so valuable in any 
great emergency should be so extravagant and eccentric 
in the ordinary affairs of life. I might as well drive to 
Bellevue House, and consult the first gentleman I met 
there.” 

Lady Bassett did not reply immediately, and Sir 
Charles observed that her face was very red, and her 
hands trembled. 

“ Why, Bella,” said he, “ has all that rhodomontade 
upset you ? ” 

Lady Bassett looked frightened at his noticing her 
agitation, and said that Mr. Rolfe always overpowered 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


367 


her. “ He is so large, and so confident, and throws such 
new light on things.” 

“New light! Wild eccentricity always does that; but 
it is the light of Jack-o’-lantern. On a great question, 
so near my heart as this, give me the steady light of 
common-sense, not the wayward coruscations of a fiery 
imagination. Bella, dear, I shall send the boy to a good 
school, and so cut off at one blow all the low associations 
that have caused the mischief.” 

“You know what is best, dear,” said Lady Bassett; 
“ you are wiser than any of us.” 

In the morning she got hold of Mr. Rolfe, and asked 
him if he could put her in the way of getting more than 
three per cent for her money without risk. 

“ Only one,” said Rolfe. “ London freeholds in rising 
situations, let to substantial tenants. I can get you five 
per cent that way, if you are always ready to buy. The 
thing does not offer every day.” 

“ I have twenty thousand pounds to dispose of so,” 
said Lady Bassett. 

“Very well,” said Rolfe, “I’ll look out for you; but 
Oldfield must examine titles, and do the actual business. 
The best of that investment is, it is always improving; 
no ups and downs.” ( “ Come,” thought he, “ Cassandra 
has not spoken quite in vain.” ) 

Sir Charles acted on his judgment, and, in due course, 
sent Mr. Bassett to a school at some distance, kept by a 
clergyman, who had the credit in that county of exercis¬ 
ing sharp supervision and strict discipline. 

Sir Charles made no secret of the boy’s eccentricities. 
Mr. Beecher said he had one or two steady boys who 
assisted him in such cases. 

Sir Charles thought that a very good idea; it was 
like putting a wild colt into the break with a steady 
horse. 


368 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


He missed the boy sadly at first, but comforted him¬ 
self with the conviction that he had parted with him for 
his good: that consoled him somewhat. 

The younger children of Sir Charles and Lady Bassett 
were educated entirely by their mother, and taught as 
none but a loving lady can teach. 

Compton, with whom we have to do, never knew the 
thorns with which the path of letters is apt to be strewn. 
A mistress of the great art of pleasing made knowledge 
from the first a primrose path to him. Sparkling all over 
with intelligence, she impregnated her boy with it. She 
made herself his favorite companion ; she would not keep 
her distance. She stole and coaxed knowledge and good¬ 
ness into his heart and mind with rare and loving cunning. 

She taught him English and French and Latin on the 
Hamiltonian plan, and stored his young mind with 
history and biography, and read to him, and conversed 
with him on everything as they read it. 

She taught him to speak the truth, and to be honorable 
and just. 

She taught him to be polite, and even formal, rather 
than free and easy and rude. She taught him to be a 
man. He must not be what brave boys called a molly¬ 
coddle. Like most womanly women, she had a venera¬ 
tion for man, and she gave him her own high idea of the 
manly character. 

Natural ability and habitual contact with a mind so 
attractive and so rich gave this intelligent boy many 
good ideas beyond his age. 

When he was six years old, Lady Bassett made him 
pass his word of honor that he would never go into the 
•stable-yard; and even then he was far enough advanced 
to keep his word religiously. 

In return for this she let him taste some sweets of 
liberty, and was not always after him. She was profound 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


369 


enough to see that without liberty a noble character 
cannot be formed; and she husbanded the curb. 

One day he represented to her that in the meadow 
next their lawn were great stripes of yellow, which were 
possibly cowslips ; of course, they might be only butter¬ 
cups ; but he hoped better things of them. He further 
reported that there was an iron gate between him and 
this paradise. He could get over it, if not objectionable, 
but he thought it safest to ask her what she thought of 
the matter — was that iron gate intended to keep little 
boys from the cowslips ? because, if so, it was a mis¬ 
fortune to which he must resign himself. Still, it was a 
misfortune. All this, of course, in the simple language 
of boyhood. 

Then Lady Bassett smiled, and said, “ Suppose I were 
to lend you a key of that iron gate ? ” 

“ 0 mamma! ” 

“ I have a great mind to.” 

“ Then you will, you will! ” 

“ Does that follow ? ” 

“Yes; whenever you say you think you’ll do some¬ 
thing kind, or you have a great mind to do it, you know 
you always do it; and that is one thing I do like you 
for, mamma. You are better than your word.” 

“ Better than my word ? Where does the child learn 
these things ? ” 

“ La, mamma, papa says that often.” 

“Oh, that accounts for it! I like the phrase very 
much. I wish I could think I deserved it. At any rate, 
I will be as good as my word for once: you shall have a 
key of the gate.” 

The boy clapped his hands with delight. 

The key was sent for, and, meantime, she told him 
one reason she had trusted him with it was because he 
had been as good as his word about the stable. 

24 


370 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


The key was brought, and she held it up half-playfully, 
and said, — 

“ There, sir, I deliver you this upon conditions: you 
must only use it when the weather is quite dry, because 
the grass in the meadow is longer, and will be wet. Do 
you promise ? ” 

“ Yes, mamma.” 

“ And you must always lock the gate when you come 
back, and bring the key to one place. Let me see, the 
drawer in the hall-table — the one with marble on it; 
for you know a place for everything is our rule. On 
these conditions, I hereby deliver you this magic key, 
with the right of egress and ingress.” 

“ Egress and ingress ? ” 

“ Egress and ingress.” 

“Is that foreign for cowslips, mamma — and oxlips ?” 

“Ha! ha! the child’s head is full of cowslips. There 
is the dictionary; look out egress, and afterwards look 
out ingress.” 

When he had added these two words to his little 
vocabulary, his mother asked him if he would be good 
enough to tell her why he did not care much for all the 
beautiful flowers in the garden, and was so excited about 
cowslips, which appeared to her a flower of no great 
beauty, and the smell rather sickly—begging his pardon. 

This question posed him dreadfully; he looked at her 
in a sort of comic distress, and then sat gravely down all 
in a heap, about a yard off, to think. 

Finally he turned to her with a wry face, and said, 
“ Why do I, mamma ? ” 

She smiled deliciously. “No, no, sir,” said she, “how 
can I get inside your little head and tell what is there ? 
There must be a reason, I suppose; and you know you 
and I are never satisfied till we get at the reason of a 
thing. But there is no hurry, dear; I give you a week 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


371 


to find it out. Now run and open the gate. Stay; are 
there any cows in that field ? ” 

“Sometimes, mamma; but they have no horns, you 
know.” 

“ Upon your word ? ” 

“ Upon my honor. I am not fond of them with horns, 
myself.” 

“Then run away, darling. But you must come and 
hunt me up, and tell me how you enjoyed yourself, be¬ 
cause that makes me happy, you know.” 

This is mawkish, but it will serve to show on what 
terms the woman and boy were. 

On second thoughts I recall that apology and defy 
creation. “ The Mawkish ” is a branch of literature — a 
great and popular one — and I have neglected it savagely. 

Master Compton opened the iron gate, and the world 
was all before him where to choose. 

He chose one of those yellow stripes that had so 
attracted him. Horror! it was all buttercups, and deil 
a cowslip. 

Nevertheless, pursuing his researches, he found plenty 
of that delightful flower scattered about the meadow in 
thinner patches, and he gathered a double handful and 
dirtied his knees. 

Beturning, thus laden, from his first excursion, he was 
accosted by a fluty voice. 

“ Little boy ! ” 

He looked up and saw a girl standing on the lower bar 
of a little wooden gate, painted white, looking over. 

“ Please bring me my ball,” said she pathetically. 

Compton looked about, and saw a soft ball of many 
colors lying near. 

He put down his cowslips gravely, and brought her 
the ball. He gave it her with a blush, because she was 
a strange girl; and she blushed a little because he did. 


372 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


He returned to his cowslips. 

“Little boy!” said the voice, “please bring me my 
ball again.” 

He brought it to her with undisturbed politeness. She 
was giggling; he laughed too at that. 

“You did it on purpose that time,” said he solemnly. 

“ La ! you don’t think I’d be so wicked,” said she. 

Compton shook his head doubtfully, and considering 
the interview at an end, turned to go, when instantly the 
ball knocked his hat off, and nothing of the malefactress 
was visible, but a black eye sparkling with fun and mis¬ 
chief, and a bit of forehead wedged against the angle of 
the wall. 

This being a challenge, Compton said, “How you come 
out after that, and stand a shot like a man.” 

The invitation to be masculine did not tempt her a bit. 
The only thing she put out was her hand, and that she 
drew in with a laugh the moment he threw at it. 

At this juncture a voice cried, “Ruperta! what are you 
doing there ? ” 

Ruperta made a rapid signal with her hand to Compton, 
implying that he was to run away; and she herself walked 
demurely towards the person who had called her. 

It was three days before Compton saw her again, and 
then she beckoned him royally to her. 

“ Little boy,” said she, “ talk to me.” 

Compton looked at her a little confounded, and did not 
reply. 

“ Stand on this gate like me, and talk,” said she. 

He obeyed the first part of this mandate, and stood on 
the lower bar of the little gate; so their two figures made 
a Y when they hung back, and a tenpenny nail when they 
came forward and met, and this motion they continued 
through the dialogue; and it was a pity the little wretches 
could not keep still, and send for my friend the English 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


373 


Titian: for, when their heads were in position, it was 
indeed a pretty picture of childish and flower-like beauty 
and contrast, the boy fair, blue-eyed, and with exquisite 
golden hair; the girl black-eyed, black-browed, and with 
eyelashes of incredible length and beauty, and a cheek 
brownish but tinted, and so glowing with health and 
vigor that, pricked with a needle, it seemed ready to 
squirt carnation right into your eye. 

She dazzled Master Compton so that he could do 
nothing but look at her. 

“Well?” said she, smiling. 

“Well,” replied he, pretending her “well” was not an 
interrogatory, but a concise statement, and that he had 
discharged the whole duty of man by according a prompt 
and cheerful consent. 

“You begin,” said the lady. 

“No, you.” 

“ What for ? ” 

“ Because — I think — you are the cleverest.” 

“ Good little boy. Well then, I will. Who are you ? ”' 

“ I am Compton. Who are you, please ? ” 

“I’m Ruperta.” 

“ I never heard that name before.” 

“No more did I; I think they measured me for it. 
You live in the great house there, don’t you ? ” 

“Yes, Ruperta.” 

“Well, then, I live in the little house. It is not very 
little either. It’s Highmore. I saw you in church one 
day; is that lady with the hair your mamma ? ” 

“ Yes, Ruperta.” 

“ She is beautiful.” 

“ Isn’t she ? ” 

“But mine is so good.” 

“ Mine is very good too, Ruperta, wonderfully 
good.” 


374 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ I like you, Compton — a little.” 

“ I like you a good deal, Ruperta.” 

“ La, do you ? I wonder at that; you are like a cherub, 
and I am such a black thing.” 

“ But that is why I like you; Reginald is darker than 
you, and oh, so beautiful! ” 

“ Hum ! — he is a very bad boy.” 

“ Ho, he is not.” 

“Don’t tell stories, child; he is. I know all about 
him. A wicked, vulgar, bad boy.” 

“ He is not,” cried Compton, almost snivelling; but he 
altered his mind, and fired up. “You are a naughty, 
story-telling girl, to say that.” 

“Bless me,” said Ruperta, coloring high, and tossing 
her head haughtily. 

“I don’t like you now , Ruperta,” said Compton, with 
all the decent calmness of a settled conviction. 

“ You don’t ? ” screamed Ruperta, “ then go about your 
business directly, and don’t never come here again! 
Scolding me! How dare you? oh! oh! oh!” and the 
little lady went off slowly, with her finger in her eye; 
and Master Compton looked rather rueful, as we all do 
when this charming sex has recourse to what may be 
called “liquid reasoning.” I have known the most solid 
reasons unable to resist it. 

However, mens conscia recti, and above all, the cow¬ 
slips, enabled Compton to resist, and he troubled his 
head no more about her that day. 

But he looked out for her the next day, and she did 
not come; and that rather disappointed him. 

The next day was wet, and he did not go into the 
meadow, being on honor not to do so. 

The fourth day was lovely, and he spent a long time 
in the meadow, in hopes; he saw her for a moment at 
the gate, but she speedily retired. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


375 


He was disappointed. 

However, lie collected a good store of cowslips, and 
then came home. 

As he passed the door, out popped Euperta from some 
secret ambush, and said, “Well?” 


376 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

“ Well,” replied Compton. 

“ Are you better, dear ? ” 

“ Pm very well, thank you,” said the boy. 

“In your mind, I mean. You were cross last time, 
you know.” 

Compton remembered his mother’s lessons about manly 
behavior, and said, in a jaunty way, “Well, I s’pose I 
was a little cross.” 

Now the other cunning little thing had come to 
apologize, if there was no other way to recover her 
admirer. But, on this confession, she said, “Oh, if 
you are sorry for it, I forgive you. You may come and 
talk.” 

Then Compton came and stood on the gate, and 
they held a long conversation; and, having quarrelled 
last time, parted now with rather violent expressions of 
attachment. 

After that they made friends, and laid their little 
hearts bare to each other; and it soon appeared that 
Compton had learned more, but Ruperta had thought 
more for herself, and was sorely puzzled about many 
things, and of a vastly inquisitive mind. “ Why,” said 
she, “ is good things so hard, and bad things so nice and 
easy ? It would be much better if good things was 
nice, and bad ones nasty. That is the way I’d have it, 
if I could make things.” 

Mr. Compton shook his head, and said many things 
were very hard to understand, and even his mamma 
sometimes could not make out all the things. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


377 


“Nor mine neither; I puzzle her dreadful. I can’t 
help that; things shouldn’t come and puzzle me, and 
then I shouldn’t puzzle her. Shall I tell you my puzzles, 
and perhaps you can answer them, because you are a boy. 
I can’t think why it is wicked for me to dig in my little 
garden on a Sunday, and isn’t wicked for Jessie to cook, 
and Sarah to make the beds. Can’t think why mamma 
told papa not to be cross, and, when I told her not to be 
cross, she put me in a dark cupboard all among the 
dreadful mice, till I screamed so, she took me out and 
kissed me and gave me pie. Can’t think why papa 
called Sally ‘something’ for spilling the ink over his 
papers, and when I called the gardener the very same for 
robbing my flowers, all their hands and eyes went up, 
and they said I was a shocking girl. Can’t think why 
papa giggled the next moment, if I was a shocking girl: 
it is all puzzle — puzzle — puzzle.” 

One day she said, “ Can you tell me where all the bad 
people are buried ? for that puzzles me dreadful.” 

Compton was posed at first, but said at last he thought 
they were buried in the churchyard, along with the 
good ones. 

“ Oh, indeed! ” said she, with an air of pity. “ Pray 
have you ever been in the churchyard, and read the 
writings on the stones ? ” 

“No.” 

“Then I have. I have read every single word, and 
there are none but good people buried there; not one.” 
She added, rather pathetically, “You should not answer 
me without thinking, as if things was easy, instead of 
so hard. Well, one comfort, there are not many wicked 
people hereabouts; they live in towns; so I suppose 
they are buried in the garden, poor things, or put in the 
water with a stone.” 

Compton had no more plausible theory ready, and de- 


378 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


dined to commit himself to Ruperta’s, so that topic fell 
to the ground. 

One day he found her perched as usual, but with her 
bright little face overclouded. 

By this time the intelligent boy was fond enough of 
her to notice her face. 

“ What’s the matter, Perta ? ” 

“ Ruperta. The matter ? Puzzled again! It is very 
serious this time.” 

“Tell me, Ruperta.” 

“ No, dear.” 

“ Please.” 

The young lady fixed her eyes on him, and said, with 
a pretty solemnity, “ Let us play at catechism.” 

“ I don’t know that game.” 

“ The governess asks questions, and the good little boy 
answers. That’s catechism. I’m the governess.” 

“ Then I’m the good little boy.” 

“Yes, dear; and so now look me full in the face.” 

“There, you’re very pretty, Ruperta.” 

“ Don’t be giddy; I’m hideous: so behave, and answer 
all my questions. Oh, I’m so unhappy. Answer me, is 
young people, or old people, goodest ? ” 

“You should say best, dear. Good, better, best. 
Why, old people, to be sure — much.” 

“So I thought; and that is why I am so puzzled. 
Then your papa and mine are much betterer — will that 
do ? — than we are ? ” 

“ Of course they are.” 

“ There he goes! Such a child for answering slap 
bang, I never.” 

“ I’m not a child. I’m older than you are, Ruperta.” 

“That’s a story.” 

“Well, then, I’m as old; for Mary says we were born 
the same day — the same hour—the same minute.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


379 


“ La! we are twins.” 

She paused, however, on this discovery, and soon found 
reason to doubt her hasty conclusion. 

“No such thing,” said she; “they tell me the bells 
were ringing for you being found, and then I was found 
— to catechism you.” 

“ There, then, you see I am older than you, Euperta.” 

“Yes, dear,” said Euperta, very gravely, “I’m younger 
in my body, but older in my head.” 

This matter being settled, so that neither party could 
complain, since antiquity was evenly distributed, the 
catechising recommenced. 

“Do you believe in ‘Let dogs delight’ ?” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ What! ” screamed Euperta. “ Oh, you wicked boy ! 
Why, it comes next after Bible.” 

“ Then I do believe it,” said Compton, who, to tell the 
truth, had been merely puzzled with the verb, and was 
not afflicted with any doubt that the composition referred 
to was a divine oracle. 

“ Good boy,” said Euperta patronizingly. “ Well, then, 
this is what puzzles me; your papa and mine don’t 
believe in ‘Dogs delight.’ They have been quarrelling 
this twelve years and more, and mean to go on in spite 
of mamma. She is good. Didn’t you know that your 
papa and mine are great enemies ? ” 

“No, Euperta. Oh, what a pity! ” 

“Don’t, Compton, don’t; there, you have made me 
cry.” 

He set himself to console her. 

She consented to be consoled. 

But she said, with a sigh, “ What becomes of old peo¬ 
ple being better than young ones now ? Are you and I 
bears and lions ? Do we scratch out each other’s eyes ? 
It is all puzzle, puzzle, puzzle. I wish I was dead! 


380 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Nurse says when I am dead I shall understand it all. 
But I don’t know; I saw a dead cat once, and she didn’t 
seem to know as much as before: puzzle, puzzle. Comp¬ 
ton, do you think they are puzzled in heaven ? ” 

“No.” 

“ Then the sooner we both go there, the better.” 

“ Yes, but not just now.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because of the cowslips.” 

“Here’s a boy! What, would you rather be among 
the cowslips than the angels ? and think of the diamonds 
and pearls that heaven is paved with! ” 

“ But you mightn’t be there.” 

“ What! Am I a wicked girl, then — wickeder than 
you, that is a boy ? ” 

“Oh, no, no, no: but see how big it is up there” 
(they cast their eyes up, and taking the blue vault for 
creation, were impressed with its immensity). “I know 
where to find you here, but up there you might be ever 
so far off me.” 

“La! so I might. Well, then, we had better keep 
quiet. I suppose we shall get wiser as we get older. 
But oh, Compton, I’m so sorry your papa and mine are 
bears and lions. Why doesn’t the clergyman scold 
them ? ” 

“Nobody dare scold my papa,” said Compton proudly. 
Then, after reflection, “ Perhaps, when we are older, we 
may persuade them to make friends. I think it is very 
stupid to quarrel; don’t you ? ” 

“ As stupid as an owl.” 

“You and I had a quarrel once, Kuperta.” 

“Yes, you misbehaved.” 

“ No, no; you were cross.” 

“ Story! Well, never mind: we did quarrel. And you 
were miserable directly.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


381 


“ Not so very,” said Compton, tossing his head. 

“ I was, then,” said Ruperta, with unguarded candor. 

“ So was I.” 

“ Good boy ! Kiss me, dear.” 

“ There — and there — and there — and ” — 

“ That will do. Oh, I want to talk, Compton.” 

“Yes, dear.” 

“I’m not very sure, but I rather think I’m in love 
with you — a little, little bit, you know.” 

“ And I’m sure I’m in love with you, Ruperta.” 

“ Over head an’ ears ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ Then I love you to distraction. Bother the gate. If 
it wasn’t for that, I could run in the meadow with you: 
and marry you perhaps, and so gather cowslips together 
for ever and ever.” 

“Let us open it.” 

“You can’t.” 

“ Let us try.” 

“ I have. It won’t be open.” 

“Let m,e try. Some gates want to be lifted up a 
little, and then they will open. There, I told you so.” 

The gate came open. 

Ruperta uttered an exclamation of delight, and then 
drew back. 

“ I’m afraid, Compton,” said she; “ papa would be 
angry.” 

She wanted Compton to tempt her; but that young 
gentleman, having a strong sense of filial duty, omitted 
to do so. 

When she saw he would not persuade her, she dis¬ 
pensed. “ Come along,” said she, “ if it is only for five 
minutes.” 

She took his hand, and away they scampered. He 
showed her the cowslips, the violets, and all the treas- 


382 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


ures of the meadow; but it was all hurry, and scurry, 
and excitement; no time to look at anything above 
half a minute, for fear of being found out; and so, at 
last, back to the gate, beaming with stolen pleasure, 
glowing and sparkling with heat and excitement. 

The cunning thing made him replace the gate, and 
then, after saying she must go for about an hour, 
marched demurely back to the house. 

After one or two of these hasty trips, immunity gave 
her a sense of security, and, the weather getting warm, 
she used to sit in the meadow with her beau, and weave 
wreaths of cowslips, and place them in her black hair, 
and for Compton she made coronets of bluebells, and 
adorned his golden head. 

And sometimes, for a little while, she would nestle 
close to him, and lean her head, with all the feminine 
grace of a mature woman, on his shoulder. 

Said she, “ A boy’s shoulder does very nice for a girl 
to put her nose on.” 

One day the aspiring girl asked him what was that 
forest. 

“ That is Bassett’s wood.” 

“ I will go there with you some day when papa is out.” 

“ I’m afraid that is too far for you,” said Compton. 

“Nothing is too far for me,” replied the ardent girl. 
(i Why, how far is it ? ” 

“ More than half a mile.” 

“Is it very big ? ” 

“ Immense.” 

“ Belong to the Queen ? ” 

“ No, to papa.” 

“ Oh! ” 

And here my reader may well ask what was Lady 
Bassett about; or did Compton, with all his excellent 
teaching, conceal all this from his mother and his friend ? 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


383 


On the contrary, he went open-mouthed to her, and 
told her he had seen such a pretty little girl; and gave 
her a brief account of their conversation. 

Lady Bassett was startled at first, and greatly per¬ 
plexed. She told him he must on no account go to her; 
if he spoke to her it must be on papa’s ground. She 
even made him pledge his honor to that. 

More than that she did not like to say. She thought 
it unnecessary and undesirable to transmit to another 
generation the unhappy feud, by which she had suffered 
so much, and was even then suffering. Moreover, she 
was as much afraid of Bichard Bassett as ever. If he 
chose to tell his girl not to speak to Compton, he might. 
She was resolved not to go out of her way to affront him, 
through his daughter. Besides, that might wound Mrs. 
Bassett, if it got round to her ears; and, although she 
had never spoken to Mrs. Bassett, yet their eyes had 
met in church, and always with a pacific expression. 
Indeed, Lady Bassett felt sure she had read in that 
meek woman’s face a regret that they were not friends, 
and could not be friends, because of their husbands. 
Lady Bassett then for these reasons would not forbid 
Compton to be kind to Buperta in moderation. 

Whether she would have remained as neutral, had she 
known how far these young things were going, is quite 
another matter: but Compton’s narratives to her were, 
naturally enough, very tame compared with the reality, 
and she never dreamed that two seven-year-olds could 
form an attachment so warm as these little plagues were 
doing. 

And, to conclude, about the time when Mr. Compton 
first opened the gate for his inamorata, Lady Bassett’s 
mind was diverted in some degree, even from her be¬ 
loved boy Compton, by a new trouble, and a host of 
passions it excited in her own heart. 


384 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


A thunder-clap fell on Sir Charles Bassett, in the form 
of a letter from Reginald’s tutor, informing him that 
Reginald and another lad had been caught wiring hares 
in a wood at some distance, and were now in custody. 

Sir Charles mounted his horse, and rode to the place, 
leaving Lady Bassett a prey to great anxiety and bitter 
remorse. 

Sir Charles came back in two days with the galling 
news that his son and heir was in prison for a month, 
all his exertions having only prevailed to get the case 
summarily dealt with. 

Reginald’s companion, a young gypsy aged seventeen, 
had got three months, it being assumed that he was the 
tempter; the reverse was the case though. 

When Sir Charles told Lady Bassett all this, with a 
face of agony and a broken voice, her heart almost 
burst; she threw every other consideration to the winds. 

“ Charles,” she cried, “ I can’t bear it; I can’t see your 
heart wrung any more, and your affections blighted. 
Tear that young viper out of your breast; don’t go on 
wasting your heart’s blood on a stranger: he is not 
your SON.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


385 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

At this monstrous declaration, from the very lips of 
the man’s wife, there was a dead silence, Sir Charles 
being struck dumb, and Lady Bassett herself terrified at 
the sound of the words she had uttered. 

After a terrible pause, Sir Charles fixed his eyes on 
her with an awful look, and said, very slowly, “ Will — 
you — have —the goodness — to — say that again ? but 
first think what you are saying.” 

This made Lady Bassett shake in every limb; indeed 
the very flesh of her body quivered. Yet she persisted, 
but in a tone that of itself showed how fast her courage 
was oozing. She faltered out, almost inaudibly, “I say 
you must waste no more love on him — he is not your 
son! ” 

Sir Charles looked at her to see if she was in her 
senses ; it was not the first time he had suspected her of 
being deranged on this one subject. But no: she was 
pale as death, she was cringing, wincing, quivering, and 
her eyes roving to and fro—a picture not of frenzy, but 
of guilt unhardened. 

He began to tremble in his turn, and was so horror- 
stricken and agitated that he could hardly speak. “ Am 
I dreaming ? ” he gasped. 

Lady Bassett saw the storm she had raised, and would 
have given the world to recall her words. 

“ Whose is he, then ? ” asked Sir Charles, in a voice 
scarcely human. 

“ I do not know,” said Lady Bassett doggedly. 

“ Then how dare you say that he isn’t mine ? ” 

25 


386 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Kill me, Charles/’ cried slie passionately ; “ but don’t 
look at me so, and speak to me so. Why, I say he is not 
yours; is he like you either in face or mind ? ” 

“ And he is like — whom ? ” 

Lady Bassett had lost all her courage by this time; 
she whimpered out, “ Like nobody — except the gypsies.” 

“ Bella, this is a subject which will part you and me 
for life, unless we can agree upon it.” 

No reply in words from Lady Bassett. 

“ So please let us understand each other. Your son is 
not my son. Is that what you look me in the face and 
tell me ? ” 

“Charles, I never said that. How could he be my 
son and not be yours ? ” 

And she raised her eyes and looked him full in the 
face; no fear nor cringing now ; the woman was majestic. 

Sir Charles was a little alarmed in his turn, for his 
wife’s soft eyes flamed battle for the first time in her 
life. 

“Now you talk sense,” said he ; “if he is yours he is 
mine ; and, as he is certainly yours, this is a very foolish 
conversation, which must not be renewed, otherwise ” — 

“ I shall be insulted by my own husband ? ” 

“I think it very probable. And, as I do not choose 
you to be insulted, nor to think yourself insulted, I 
forbid you ever to recur to this subject.” 

“ I will obey, Charles; but let me say one word first. 
When I was alone in London, and hardly sensible, might 
not this child have been imposed upon me and you ? 
I’m sure he was.” 

“By whom ?” 

“ How can I tell ? — I was alone — that woman in the 
house had a bad face — the gypsies do these things, I’ve 
heard.” 

“ The gypsies ! And why not the fairies ? ” said Sir 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


387 


Charles, contemptuously. “ Is that all you have to sug¬ 
gest — before we close the subject forever ? ” 

“Yes” said Lady Bassett sorrowfully. “I see you 
take me for a madwoman; but time will show. Oh that 
I could persuade you to detach your affections from that 
boy — he will break your heart else — and rest them on 
the children that resemble us in mind and features ! ” 

“ These partialities are allowed to mothers, but a 
father must be just. Beginald is my first-born; he came 
to me from Heaven at a time when I was under a bitter 
trial, and from the day he was born till this day I have 
been a happy man. It is not often a father owes so 
much to a son as I do to my darling boy. He is dear to 
my heart in spite of his faults; and now I pity him as 
well as love him, since it seems he has only one parent, 
poor little fellow.” 

Lady Bassett opened her mouth to reply, but could 
not. She raised her hands in mute despair, then quietly 
covered her face with them, and soon the tears trickled 
through her white fingers. 

Sir Charles looked at her, and was touched at her silent 
grief. 

“ My darling wife,” said he, “ I think this is the only 
thing you and I cannot agree upon. Why not be wise, 
as well as loving, and avoid it ? ” 

“ I will never seek it again,” sobbed Lady Bassett. 
“ But, oh,” she cried, with sudden wildness, “ something 
tells me it will meet me, and follow me, and rob me of 
my husband. Well, when that day comes, I shall know 
how to die.” 

And with this she burst away from him, like some 
creature who has been stung past endurance. 

Sir Charles often meditated on this strange scene ; turn 
it how he could, he came back to the same conclusion, 
that she must have an hallucination on this subject. He 


388 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


said to himself, “ If Bella really believed the boy was a 
changeling, she would act upon her conviction; she 
would urge me to take some steps to recover our true 
child, whom the gypsies or the fairies have taken, and 
given us poor dear Reginald instead.” 

But still the conversation, and her strange looks of 
terror, lay dormant in his mind ; both were too remarka¬ 
ble to be ever forgotten. Such things lie like certain 
seed, awaiting only fresh accidents to spring into life. 

The month rolled away, and the day came for Regi¬ 
nald’s liberation. A dog-cart was sent for him, and the 
heir of the Bassetts emerged from a county jail, and 
uttered a whoop of delight: he insisted on driving, and 
went home at a rattling pace. 

He was in high spirits till he got in sight of Hunter- 
combe Hall; and then it suddenly occurred to his mer¬ 
curial mind that he should probably not be received with 
an ovation, petty larceny being a novelty in that ancient 
house whose representative he was. 

When he did get there he found the whole family in 
such a state of commotion that his return was hardly 
noticed at all. 

Master Compton’s dinner-hour was two p.m., and yet 
at three o’clock of this day he had not come in. 

This was reported to Lady Bassett, and it gave her 
some little anxiety, for she suspected he might possibly 
be in the company of Ruperta Bassett; and, although 
she did not herself much object to that, she objected 
very much to have it talked about and made a fuss. So 
she went herself to the end of the lawn, and out in the 
meadow, that a servant might not find the young people 
together, if her suspicion was correct. 

She went into the meadow, and called “ Compton — 
Compton! ” as loud as she could, but there was no 
reply. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 389 

Then she came in, and began to be alarmed, and sent 
servants about in all directions. 

But two hours elapsed, and there were no tidings. The 
thing looked serious. 

She sent out grooms well-mounted, to scour the country. 
One of these fell in with Sir Charles, who thereupon 
came home, and found his wife in a pitiable state. 
She was sitting in an arm-chair, trembling, and crying 
hysterically. 

She caught his hand directly, and grasped it like a 
vise. 

“ It is Richard Bassett ! 99 she cried. “ He knows how 
to wound and kill me. He has stolen our child.” 

Sir Charles hurried out, and soon after that Reginald 
arrived, and stood awe-struck at her deplorable condition. 

Sir Charles came back heated and anxious, kissed 
Reginald, told him in three words his brother was miss¬ 
ing, and then informed Lady Bassett that he had learned 
something very extraordinary; Richard Bassett’s little 
girl had also disappeared, and his people were out, look¬ 
ing after her. 

“ Ah ! they are together,” cried Lady Bassett. 

“ Together ? a son of mine consorting with that viper’s 
brood! ” 

“ What does that poor child know ? Oh, find him for 
me, if you love that dear child’s mother ! ” 

Sir Charles hurried out directly, but was met at the 
door by a servant, who blurted out: “The men have 
dragged the fish-ponds, Sir Charles, and they want to 
know if they shall drag the brook.” 

“ Hold your tongue, idiot! ” cried Sir Charles, and 
thrust him out; but the wiseacre had not spoken in vain. 
Lady Bassett moaned, and went into worse hysterics, 
with nobody near her but Reginald. 

That worthy, never having seen a lady in hysterics, 


390 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


and not being hardened at all points, uttered a sympa¬ 
thetic howl, and flung his arms round her neck. “ Oh, 
oh, oh ! Don’t cry, mamma.” 

Lady Bassett shuddered at his touch, but did not repel 
him. 

“ I’ll find him for you,” said the boy, “ if you will leave 
off crying.” 

She stared in his face a moment, and then went on as 
before. 

“ Mamma ! ” said he, getting impatient, “ do listen to 
me. I’ll find him easy enough, if you will only listen.” 

“ You! — you! ” and she stared wildly at him. 

“ Ay, I know a sight more than the fools about here. 
I’m a poacher. Just you put me on to his track. I’ll 
soon run into him, if he is above ground.” 

“ A child like you ! ” cried Lady Bassett; “ how can 
you do that ? ” and she began to wring her hands again. 

“ I’ll show you,” said the boy, getting very impatient, 
“ if you will just leave off crying like a great baby, and 
come to any place you like where he has been to-day and 
left a mark.” 

“ Ah! ” cried Lady Bassett. 

“ I’m a poacher! ” repeated Reginald, quite proudly; 
“ you forget that.” 

“ Come with me,” cried Lady Bassett, starting up. 

She whipped on her bonnet, and ran with him down 
the lawn. 

“ There, Reginald,” said she, panting, “ I think my 
darling was here this afternoon; yes, yes, he must; for 
he had a key of the door, and it is open.” 

“ All right,” said Reginald, “ come into the field.” 

He ran about, like a dog hunting, and soon found 
marks among the cowslips. 

" Somebody has been gathering a nosegay here to-day,” 
said he; “now, mamma, there’s only two ways out of 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 391 

this field: let us go straight to that gate; that is the 
likeliest.” 

Near the gate was some clay, and Reginald showed 
her several prints of small feet. 

“ Look,” said he, “ here’s the track of two — one’s a 
gal; how I know, here’s a sole to this shoe no wider nor 
a knife. Come on ! ” 

In the next field he was baffled for a long time; but, 
at last, he found a place in a dead hedge, where they 
had gone through. 

“ See, said he, “ these twigs are fresh broken, and 
here’s a bit of the gal’s frock. Oh, won’t she catch 
it! ” 

“ Oh, you brave, clever boy! ” cried Lady Bassett. 

“ Come on ! ” shouted the urchin. 

He hunted like a beagle, and saw like a bird, with his 
savage glittering eye. He was on fire with the ardor of 
the chase: and, not to dwell too long on what has been 
so often and so well written by others, in about an hour 
and a half he brought the anxious, palpitating, but now 
hopeful mother, to the neighborhood of Bassett’s wood. 
Here he trusted to his own instinct. 

“ They have gone into the wood,” said he, “ and I don’t 
blame ’em. I found my way here, long before his age. 
I say, don’t you tell; I’ve snared plenty of the governor’s 
hares in that wood.” 

He got to the edge of the wood, and ran down the side. 
At last he found the marks of small feet on a low bank, 
and darting over it, discovered the fainter traces on some 
decaying leaves inside the wood. 

“ There,” said he; “ now it is just as if you had got 
them in your pocket, for they’ll never find their way out 
of this wood. Bless your heart, why, I used to get lost 
in it, at first.” 

“ Lost in the wood! ” cried Lady Bassett, “but he will 


392 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


die of fear, or be eaten by wild beasts; and it is getting 
so dark.” 

“ What about that ? Night or day is all one to me. 
What will you give me, if I find him before midnight ? ” 

“ Anything I’ve got in the world.” 

“ Give me a sovereign ? ” 

“ A thousand ! ” 

“ Give me a kiss ? ” 

“ A hundred! ” 

“ Then I’ll tell you what I’ll do — I don’t mind a little 
trouble, to stop your crying, mamma, because you are the 
right sort — I’ll get the village out, and we will tread 
the wood with torches an’ all for them as can’t see by 
night; I can see all one; and you shall have your kid 
home to supper. You see there’s a heavy dew, and he 
is not like me that would rather sleep in this wood than 
the best bed in London City; a night in a wood would 
about settle his hash. So here goes. I can run a mile 
in six minutes and a half.” 

With these words the strange boy was off like an 
arrow from a bow. 

Lady Bassett, exhausted by anxiety and excitement, 
was glad to sit down; her trembling heart would not let 
her leave the place that she now began to hope contained 
her child. She sat down and waited patiently. 

The sun set, the moon rose, the stars glittered; the 
infinite leaves stood out dark and solid as if cut out of 
black marble: all was dismal silence and dread suspense 
to the solitary watcher. 

Yet the lady of Huntercombe Hall sat on, sick at 
heart, but patient, beneath that solemn sky. 

She shuddered a little as the cold dews gathered on 
her, for she was a woman nursed in luxury’s lap, but 
she never moved. 

The silence was dismal. Had that wild boy forgotten 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


393 


his promise, or were there no parents in the village that 
their feet lagged so ? 

It was nearly ten o’clock when her keen ears, strained 
to the utmost, discovered a faint buzzing of voices, but 
where she could not tell. 

The sounds increased and increased, and then there 
was a temporary silence, and after that a faint halloing 
in the wood to her right. The wood was five hundred 
acres, and the bulk of it lay in front and to her left. 

The halloing got louder and louder, the whole wood 
seemed to echo; her heart beat high ; lights glimmered 
nearer and nearer; hares and rabbits pattered by and 
startled her, and pheasants thundered off their roosts 
with an incredible noise, owls flitted, and bats innumer¬ 
able, disturbed and terrified by the glaring lights and 
loud-resounding hallos. 

Nearer, nearer came the sounds, till at last a line of 
men and boys, full fifty, carrying torches and lanterns, 
came up and lighted up the dew-spangled leaves, and 
made the mother’s heart leap with joyful hope at succor 
so powerful. 

Oh, she could have kissed the stout village blacksmith, 
whose deep, sonorous lungs rang close to her. Never 
had any man’s voice sounded to her so like a god’s, as 
this stout blacksmith’s “hilloop! liilloop!” close and loud 
in her ear, and those at the end of the line halloed 
“ hillo-op ! hillo-op! ” like an echo; and so they passed 
on, through bush and brier, till their voices died away in 
the distance. 

A boy detached himself from the line, and ran 
to Lady Bassett with a travelling-rug. It was Regi¬ 
nald. 

“ You put on this,” said he. He shook it, and, stand¬ 
ing on tiptoe, put it over her shoulders. 

“ Thank you, dear,” said she. “ Where is papa ? ” 


394 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Oh, he is in line, and the Highmore swell and all.” 
“ Mr. Kichard Bassett ? ” 

“ Ay, his kid is out on the loose as well as ours.” 

“ Oh, Beginald, if they should quarrel! ” 

“ Why, our governor can lick him , can’t he ? ” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


395 




CHAPTER XL. 

“ Oh, don’t talk so. I wouldn’t for all the world they 
should quarrel.” 

“Well, we have got enough fellows to part them if 
they do.” 

“ Dear Reginald, you have been so good to me, and you 
are so clever; speak to some of the men, and let there 
be no more quarrelling between papa and that man.” 

“ All right,” said the boy. 

“ On second thoughts, take me to papa: I’ll be by his 
side, and then they cannot.” 

“ You want to walk through the wood ? that is a good 
joke. Why, it is like walking through a river, and the 
young wood slapping your eyes, for you can’t see every 
twig by this light, and the leaves sponging your face and 
shoulders; and the briers would soon strip your gown 
into ribbons, and make your little ankles bleed. No, you 
are a lady ; you stay where you are, and let us men work 
it. We shan’t find him yet awhile. I must get near the 
governor. When we find my lord, I’ll give a whistle you 
could hear a mile off.” 

“ Oh, Reginald, are you sure he is in the wood ? ” 

“ I’d bet my head to a chany orange. You might as 
well ask me, when I track a badger to his hole, and no 
signs of his going out again, whether old long-claws is 
there. I wish I was as sure of never going back to 
school as I am of finding that little lot. The only thing 
I don’t like is the young muffs not giving us a hallo 
back. But, any way, I’ll find ’em, alive or dead” 

And, with this pleasing assurance, the little imp 


396 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


scudded off, leaving the mother glued to the spot with 
terror. 

For full an hour more the torches gleamed, though 
fainter and fainter; and so full was the wood of echoes 
that the voices, though distant, seemed to hallo all 
round the agonized mother. 

But presently there was a continuous yell, quite dif¬ 
ferent from the isolated shouts, — a distant but unmis¬ 
takable howl of victory, — that made a bolt of ice shoot 
down her back, and then her heart to glow like fire. 

It was followed by a keen whistle. 

She fell on her knees, and thanked God for her boy. 

In the middle of this wood was a shallow excavation, 
an old chalk-pit, unused for many years. It was never 
deep, and had been half filled up with dead leaves; 
these once blown into the hollow or drooped from the 
trees had accumulated. 

The very middle of the line struck on this place, and 
Moss, the old keeper, who was near the centre, had no 
sooner cast his eyes into it than he halted, and uttered 
a stentorian hallo, well known to sportsmen, — “ See — 
ho!” 

A dead halt, a low murmur, and, in a very few seconds 
the line was a circle, and all the torches that had not 
expired held high in a flaming ring over the prettiest 
little sight that wood had ever presented. 

The old keeper had not given tongue on conjecture, 
like some youthful hound; in a little hollow of leaves, 
which the boy had scraped out, lay Master Compton and 
Miss Buperta, on their little backs, each with an arm 
round the other’s neck, enjoying the sweet sound sleep 
of infancy, which neither the horror of their situation, — 
Babes in the Wood, — nor the shouts of fifty people, had 
in the smallest degree disturbed; to be sure they had 
undergone great fatigue. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


397 


Young master wore a coronet of bluebells on his 
golden head; young miss, a wreath of cowslips on her 
ebon locks. The pair were flowers, cherubs, children, 
everything that stands for young, tender, and lovely. 

The honest villagers gaped and roared in chorus, and 
held high their torches, and gazed with reverential de¬ 
light. Not for them was it to finger the little gentle¬ 
folks, but only to devour them with admiring eyes. 

Indeed, the picture was carried home to many a hum¬ 
ble heart, and is spoken of to this day in Huntercombe 
village. 

But the pale and anxious fathers were in no state to 
see pictures: they only saw their children. Sir Charles 
and Richard Bassett came round with the general rush, 
saw, and dashed into the pit. 

Strange to say, neither knew the other was there: 
each seized his child and tore it away from the contact 
of the other child, as if from a viper, in which natural 
but harsh act they saw each other for the first time, and 
their eyes gleamed in a moment with hate and defiance 
over their loving children. 

Here was a picture of a different kind; and if the 
melancholy Jacques, or any other gentleman with a 
foible for thinking in a wood, had been there, methinks 
he had moralized very prettily on the hideousness of 
hate, and the beauty of the sentiment it had interrupted 
so fiercely. But it escaped this sort of comment for 
about eight years. Well, all this woke up the bairns : 
the lights dazzled them, the people scared them. Each 
hid a little face on the paternal shoulder. 

The fathers, like wild beasts, each carrying off a lamb, 
withdrew, glaring at each other; but the very next 
moment the stronger and better sentiment prevailed, and 
they kissed and blessed their restored treasures, and 
forgot their enemies for a time. 


398 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Sir Charles’s party followed him, and supped at Hun- 
tercombe, every man Jack of them. 

Reginald, who had delivered a terrific cat-call, now ran 
off to Lady Bassett. There she was, still on her knees. 
“ Found! found! ” he shouted. 

She clasped him in her arms, and wept for joy. 

“ My eyes! ” said he, “ what a one you are to cry! 
You come home : you’ll catch your death o’ cold.” 

“ No, no; take me to my child at once.” 

“ Can’t be done; the governor has carried him off 
through the wood, and I ain’t a-going to let you travel the 
wood. You come with me; we’ll go the short cut, and 
be home as soon as them.” 

She complied, though trembling all over. 

On the way he told her where the children had been 
discovered, and in what attitude. 

“ Little darlings ! ” said she. “ But he has frightened 
his poor mother, and nearly broken her heart. Oh ! ” 

“If you cry any more, mamma— Shut up, I tell 
you.” 

“ Must I? Oh ! ” 

“ Yes, or you’ll catch pepper.” 

Then he pulled her along, gabbling all the time. 
“ Those two swells didn’t quarrel after all, you see.” 

“ Thank Heaven ! ” 

“But they looked at each other like hobelixes, and 
pulled the kids away like pison. Ha ! I say, the young 
uns ain’t of the same mind as the old uns. I say, 
though, our Compton is not a bad sort; I’m blowed if 
he hadn’t taken off his tippet, to put round his gal. 
I say, don’t you think that little chap has begun rather 
early ? Why, I didn’t trouble my head about the gals 
till I was eleven years old.” 

Lady Bassett was too much agitated to discuss these 
delicate little questions just then. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 399 

She replied as irrelevantly as ever a lady did. “ Oh, 
you good, brave, clever boy ! ” said she. 

Then she stopped a moment, to kiss him heartily. “ I 
shall never forget this night, dear. I shall always make 
excuses for you. Oh, shall we never get home ? ” 

“We shall be home as soon as they will/’ said Regi¬ 
nald. “Come on.” 

He gabbled to her the whole way; but the reader has 
probably had enough of his mill-clack. 

Lady Bassett reached home, and had just ordered a 
large fire in Compton’s bedroom, when Sir Charles came 
in, bringing the boy. 

The lady ran out screaming, and went down on her 
knees, with her arms out, as only a mother can stretch 
them to her child. 

There was not a word of scolding that night. He had 
made her suffer, but what of that ? She had no egotism ; 
she was a true mother. Her boy had been lost, and was 
found, and she was the happiest soul in creation. 

But the fathers of these babes in the wood were both 
intensely mortified, and took measures to keep those 
little lovers apart in future. Richard Bassett locked up 
his gate ; Sir Charles padlocked his; and they both told 
their wives they really must be more vigilant. 

The poor children, being in disgrace, did not venture 
to remonstrate; but they used often to think of each 
other, and took a liking to the British Sunday, for then 
they saw each other in church. 

By and by, even that consolation ceased. Ruperta was 
sent to school, and passed her holidays at the seaside. 

To return to Reginald. He was compelled to change 
his clothes that evening, but was allowed to sit up, and 
when the heads of the house were a little calmer, became 
the hero of the night. 

Sir Charles, gazing on him with parental pride, said, 


400 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Reginald, you have begun a new life to-day, and begun 
it well. Let us forget the past, and start fresh to-day, 
with the love and gratitude of both your parents.” 

The boy hung his head, and said nothing in reply. 

Lady Bassett came to his assistance. “He will, he 
will! Don’t say a word about the past. He is a good, 
brave, beautiful boy, and I adore him.” 

“ And I like you, mamma,” said Reginald, graciously. 

From that day the boy had a champion in Lady Bas¬ 
sett, and Heaven knows she had no sinecure. Poor 
Reginald’s virtues were too eccentric to balance his 
faults for long together. His parents could not have a 
child lost in a wood every day; but good taste and pro¬ 
priety can be offended every hour, when one is so young, 
active, and savage as Master Reginald. 

He was up at five, and doing wrong all day. 

Hours in the stables, learning to talk horsey and smell 
dunghilly. 

Hours in the village, gossiping and romping. 

In good company, an owl. 

In bad or low company, a cricket, a nightingale, a 
magpie. 

He was seen at a neighboring fair, playing the fiddle 
in a booth to dancing yokels, and receiving their pence. 

He was caught by Moss wiring hares in Bassett’s 
wood, within twenty yards of the place where he had 
found the babes in the wood so nobly. 

Remonstrated with tenderly and solemnly, he informed 
Sir Charles that poaching was a thing he could not live 
without, and he modestly asked to have Bassett’s wood 
given him to poach in, offering, as a consideration, to 
keep all other poachers out; as a greater inducement, he 
represented that he should not require a house, but only 
a coarse sheet to stretch across an old sawpit, and a pair 
of blankets for winter use — one under, one over. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


401 


Sir Charles was often sad, sometimes indignant. 

Lady Bassett excused each enormity with pathetic 
ingenuity; excused, but suffered, and, indeed, pined 
visibly, for all this time he was tormenting her as few 
women in her position have been tormented. Her life 
was a struggle of contesting emotions; she was wounded, 
harassed, perplexed, and so miserable, she would have 
welcomed death, that her husband might read that manu¬ 
script, and cease to suffer, and she escape the shame of 
confessing, and of living after it. 

In one word, she was expiating. 

Neither the excuses she made, nor the misery she 
suffered, escaped Sir Charles. 

He said to her at last, “ My own Bella, this unhappy 
boy is killing you. Dear as he is to me, you are dearer. 
I must send him away again.” 

“He saved our darling,” said she, faintly; but she 
could say no more. He had exhausted excuse. 

Sir Charles made inquiries everywhere, and at last his 
attention was drawn to the following advertisement in 
the Times: 

Unmanageable, backward, or other boys, carefully trained 
and educated, by a married rector. Home comforts. Mode¬ 
rate terms. Address Dr. Beecher, Fennymore, Cambridge¬ 
shire. 

He wrote to this gentleman, and the correspondence 
was encouraging. “These scapegraces,” said the artist 
in tuition, “are like crabtrees — abominable till you 
graft them, and then they bear the best fruit.” 

While the letters were passing came a climax. Keck- 
less Reginald could keep no bounds intact; his inward 
definition of a boundary was “ a thing you should go a 
good way out of your way rather than not overleap.” 

Accordingly, he was often on Highmore farm at night, 
20 


402 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


and even in Highmore garden, the boundary wall tempted 
him so. 

One light, but windy night, when everybody that 
could put his head under cover, and keep it there, did, 
reckless Eeginald was out enjoying the fresh breezes; 
he mounted the boundary wall of Highmore like a cat, 
to see what amusement might offer. Thus perched, he 
speedily discovered a bright light in Highmore dining¬ 
room. 

He dropped from the wall directly, and stole softly 
over the grass, and peered in at the window. 

He saw a table with a powerful lamp on it. On that 
table, and gleaming in that light, were several silver 
vessels of rare size and workmanship; and Mr. Bassett, 
with his coat off and a green baize apron on, was clean¬ 
ing one of these with brush and leather. He had already 
cleaned the others, for they glittered prodigiously. 

Beginald’s black eye gloated and glittered at this 
unexpected display of wealth in so dazzling a form. 

But this was nothing to the revelation in store. When 
Mr. Bassett had done with that piece of plate, he went 
to the panelled wall, and opened a door so nicely adapted 
to the panels that a stranger would hardly have discov¬ 
ered it. Yet it was an enormous door, and being opened 
revealed a still larger closet, lined with green velvet, and 
fitted with shelves from floor to ceiling. 

Here shone in all their glory the old plate of two good 
families — that is to say, half the old plate of the Bas¬ 
setts, and all the old plate of the Goodwyns, from whom 
came Highmore to Bichard Bassett, through his mother, 
Buperta Goodwyn, so named after her grandmother; so 
named after her aunt; so named after her godmother; 
so named after her father, Prince Eupert, cavalier, 
chemist, glass-blower, etc., etc. 

The wall seethed ablaze with suns and moons, for many 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


403 


of the chased goblets, plates, and dishes were silver-gilt; 
none of yonr filmy electro-plate, but gold laid on thick 
by the old mercurial process, in days when they that 
wrought in precious metals were honest — for want of 
knowing how to cheat. 

Glued to the pane, gloating on this constellation of 
gold suns and silver moons, and trembling with Bohe¬ 
mian excitement, reckless Beginald heard not a stealthy 
step upon the grass behind him. 

He had trusted to a fact in optics, forgetting the doc¬ 
trine of shadows. 

The Scotch servant saw from the pantry window the 
shadow of a cap projected on the grass, with a face and 
part of a body. She stepped out, and got upon the 
grass. 

Finding it was only a boy, she was brave as well as 
cunning, and, owing to the wind and his absorption, 
stole on him unheard, and pinned him with her strong 
hands by both his shoulders. 

Young Hopeful uttered a screech of dismay, and 
administered a back-kick that made Jessie limp for two 
days, and scream very lustily for the present. 

Mr. Bassett, at this dialogue of yells, dropped a coffee¬ 
pot with a crash and a tinkle, and ran out directly and 
secured young hopeful, who thereupon began to quake 
and remonstrate. 

“I was only taking a look,” said he; “where’s the 
harm of that ? ” 

“You were trespassing, sir,” said Bichard Bassett. 

“What’s the harm of that, governor ? You can come 
over all our place for what I care.” 

“ Thank you. I prefer to keep to my own place.” 

“ Well, I don’t. I say, old chap, don’t hit me. ’Twas 
I put ’em all on the scent of your kid, you know.” 

« So I have heard. Well, then, this makes us quits.” 


404 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Don’t it ? You ain’t such a bad sort after all.” 

“ Only mind, Mr. Bassett, if I catch you prying here 
again, that will be a fresh account, and I shall open it 
with a horse-whip.” 

He then gave him a little push, and the boy fled like 
the wind. When he was gone Bichard Bassett became 
rather uneasy. He had hitherto concealed, even from 
his own family, the great wealth his humble home con¬ 
tained. His secret was now public. Beginald had no 
end of low companions. If burglars got scent of this it 
might be very awkward. At last he hit upon a defence. 
He got one of those hooks ending in a screw, which are 
used for pictures, and screwed it into the inside of the 
cupboard door near the top. To this he fastened a long 
piece of catgut, and carried it through the floor. His 
bed was just above the cupboard door, and he attached 
the gut to a bell by his bedside. By this means no¬ 
body could open that cupboard without ringing in his 
ears. 

Jessie told Tom; Tom told Maria and Harriet; 
Harriet and Maria told everybody; somebody told Sir 
Charles. He was deeply mortified. 

“You young idiot!” said he, “would nothing less 
than this serve your turn ? Must you go and lower me 
and yourself by giving just offence to my one enemy ? 
the man I hate and despise, and who is always on the 
watch to injure or affront me. Oh! who would be a 
father! There, pack up your things; you will go to 
school next morning at eight o’clock.” 

Mr. Beginald packed accordingly; but that did not 
occupy long; so he sallied forth, and, taking for granted 
that it was Bichard Bassett who had been so mean as to 
tell, he purchased some paint and brushes, and a rope; 
and languished until midnight. But, when that magic 
hour came, he was brisk as a bee; let himself down from 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


405 


his veranda, and stole to Richard Bassett’s front door, 
and inscribed thereon, in large and glaring letters: 

“Jerry Sneak, Esq., 

Tell-tale Tit." 

He then returned home, much calmed and comforted, 
climbed up his rope, and into his room, and there slept 
sweetly, as one who had discharged his duty to his 
neighbor and society in general. 

In the morning, however, he was very active, hurried 
the grooms, and was off before the appointed time. 

Sir Charles came down to breakfast, and lo! young 
hopeful gone, without the awkward ceremony of leave- 
taking. 

Sir Charles found, as usual, many delicacies on his 
table, and amongst them, one rarer to him than ortolan, 
pin-tail, or wild turkey (in which last my soul delights), 
for he found a letter from Richard Bassett, Esq. 

Sir, — Some nights since we caught your successor, that is 
to be, at my dining-room window, prying into my private 
affairs. Having the honor of our family at heart, I was about 
to administer a little wholesome correction when he reminded 
me he had been instrumental in tracking Miss Bassett, and 
thereby rescuing her; upon this, I was naturally mollified, 
and sent him about his business, hoping to have seen the last 
of him at Highmore. 

This morning my door is covered with opprobrious epithets, 
and as Mr. Bassett bought paint and brushes at the shop yes¬ 
terday afternoon, it is doubtless to him I am indebted for them. 

I make no comments; I simply record the facts, and put 
them down to your credit, and your son’s. 

Your obedient servant, 

Richard Bassett. 

Lady Bassett did not come down to breakfast that 
morning, so Sir Charles digested this dish in solitude. 


406 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


He was furious with Reginald; but, as Richard Bas¬ 
sett’s remonstrance was intended to insult him, he wrote 
back as follows: 

Sir, — I am deeply grieved that a son of mine should 
descend to look in at your windows, or to write anything what¬ 
ever upon your door; and I will take care it shall never recur. 

Yours obediently, 

Charles Dyke Bassett. 

This little correspondence was salutary; it fanned the 
coals of hatred between the cousins. 

Reckless Reginald soon found he had caught a Tartar 
in his new master. 

That gentleman punished him severely for every 
breach of discipline. The study was a cool dark room, 
with one window looking north, and that window barred. 
Here he locked up the erratic youth for hours at a time, 
upon the slightest escapade. 

Reginald wrote a honeyed letter to Sir Charles, bewail¬ 
ing his lot, and praying to be removed. 

Sir Charles replied sternly, and sent him a copy of 
Mr. Richard Bassett’s letter. He wrote to Mr. Beecher 
at the same time, expressing his full approval. 

Thus disciplined, the boy began to change. He be¬ 
came moody, sullen, silent, and even sleepy — this was 
the less wonderful, that he generally escaped at night 
to a gypsy camp and courted a gypsy girl, who was nearly 
as handsome as himself, besides being older, and far 
more knowing. 

His tongue went like a mill, and the whole tribe soon 
knew all about him and his parents. 

One morning the servants got up supernaturally early 
to wash. Mr. Reginald was detected stealing back to 
his roost, and reported to the master. 

Mr. Beecher had him up directly, locked him into the 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 407 

study alone; put the other students into the drawing¬ 
room ; and erected bars to his bedroom window. 

A few days of this, and he pined like a bird in a 
cage. 

A few more, and his gypsy girl came fortune-telling to 
the servants, and wormed out the truth. 

Then she came at night under his window, and made 
him a signal. He told her his hard case, and told her 
also a resolution he had come to. She informed the 
tribe. The tribe consulted. A keen saw was flung up 
to him ; in two nights he was through the bars ; the 
third he was free, and joined his sable friends. 

They struck their tents, and decamped with horses, 
asses, tents, and baggage, and were many miles away by 
daybreak, without troubling turnpikes. 

The boy left not a line behind him, and Mr. Beecher 
half hoped he might come back; still he sent to the 
nearest station, and telegraphed to Huntercombe. 

Sir Charles mounted a fleet horse, and rode off at once 
into Cambridgeshire. He set inquiries on foot, and 
learned that the boy had been seen consorting with a 
tribe of gypsies. He heard, also, that these were rather 
high gypsies, many of them foreigners; and that they 
dealt in horses, and had a farrier; and that one or two 
of the girls were handsome, and also singers. 

Sir Charles telegraphed for detectives from London; 
wrote to the mayors of towns; advertised, with full 
description and large reward, and brought such pressure 
to bear upon the Egyptians that the band began to fear ; 
thef consulted, and took measures for their own se¬ 
curity : none too soon, for they being encamped on 
Grey's Common, ‘in Oxfordshire, Sir Charles and the 
rural police rode into the camp, and demanded young 
hopeful. 

They were equal to the occasion; at first they knew 


408 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


nothing of the matter, and, with injured innocence, in¬ 
vited a full inspection. 

The invitation was accepted. 

Then, all of a sudden, one of the women affected to be 
struck with an idea. “ It is the young gentleman who 
wanted to join us in Cambridgeshire.” 

Then all their throats opened at once. “ Yes, gentle¬ 
men, there was a lovely young gentleman wanted to 
come with us ; but we wouldn’t have him. What could 
we do with him ? ” 

Sir Charles left them under surveillance, and con¬ 
tinued his researches, telegraphing Lady Bassett twice 
every day. 

A dark stranger came into Huntercombe village, no 
longer young, but still a striking figure; had once, no 
doubt, been superlatively handsome. Even now, his 
long hair was black, and his eye could glitter; but his 
life had impregnated his noble features with hardness 
and meanness; his large black eye was restless, keen, 
and servile; an excellent figure for a painter though; 
born in Spain, he was not afraid of color, had a red cap 
on his snaky black hair, and a striped waistcoat. 

He inquired for Mr. Meyrick’s farm. 

He soon found his way thither, and asked for Mrs. 
Meyrick. 

The female servant, who opened the door, ran her eye 
up and down him, and said brusquely, “What do you 
want with her, my man, because she is busy ? ” 

“ Oh, she will see me, miss.” 

Softened by the “miss,” the girl laughed and said, 
“ What makes you think that, my man ? ” 

“ Give her this, miss,” said the gypsy, “ and she will 
come to me.” 

He held her out a dirty, crumpled piece of paper. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


409 


Sally, whose hands were wet from the tub, whipped 
her hand under the corner of her checkered apron, and 
so took the note with a finger and thumb operating 
through the linen. By this means she avoided two evils, 
her fingers did not wet the letter, and the letter did not 
dirty her fingers. 

She took it into the kitchen to her mistress, whose 
arms were deep in a washtub. 

Mrs. Meyrick had played the fine lady at first starting, 
and for six months would not put her hand to anything. 
But those twin cajolers of the female heart, dignity and 
laziness, made her so utterly wretched that she returned 
to her old habits of work, only she combined with it the 
sweets of domination. 

Sally came in, and said, “It’s an old gypsy, which he 
have brought you this.” 

Mrs. Meyrick instantly wiped the soapsuds from her 
brown but shapely arms, and, whipping a wet hand under 
her apron, took the note just as Sally had. It contained 
these words only: 

Nurse, — The old Romanee will tell you all about me. 

Reginald. 

She had no sooner read it than she took her sleeves 
down, and whipped her shawl off a peg, and put it on, 
and took off her apron — and all for an old gypsy. No 
stranger must take her for anything but a lady. 

Thus embellished in a turn of the hand, she went 
hastily to the door. 

She and the gypsy both started at sight of each other, 
and Mrs. Meyrick screamed. 

“ Why, what brings you here, old man ? ” said she, 
panting. 

The gypsy answered with oily sweetness, — 

“ The little gentleman sent me, my dear. Why, you 
look like a queen.” 


410 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Hush! ” said Mrs. Meyrick. “ Come in here.” 

She made the old gypsy sit down, and she sat close to 
him. 

“ Speak low, daddy,” said she, “ and tell me all about 
my boy, my beautiful boy.” 

The old gypsy told Mrs. Meyrick the wrongs of Begi- 
nald that had driven him to this ; and she fell to crying 
and lamenting, and inveighing against all concerned, 
schoolmaster, Sir Charles, Lady Bassett, and the gypsies. 
Them the old man defended, and assured her the young 
gentleman was in good hands, and would be made a little 
king of, all the more that Keturah had told them there 
was gypsy blood in him. 

Mrs. Meyrick resented this loudly, and then returned 
to her grief. 

When she had indulged that grief for a long time, she 
felt a natural desire to quarrel with somebody, and she 
actually put on her bonnet, and was going to the Hall to 
give Lady Bassett a bit of her mind, for she said that 
lady had never shown the feelings of a woman for the 
lamb. 

But she thought better of it, and postponed the visit. 
“I shall be sure to say something I shall be sorry for 
after,” said she ; so she sat down again, and returned to 
her grief. 

Nor could she ever shake it off as thoroughly as she 
had done any other trouble in her life. 

Months after this, she said to Sally, with a burst of 
tears, “ I never nursed but one, and I shall never nurse 
another: and now he is across the seas.” 

She kept the old gypsy at the farm; or, to speak more 
correctly, she made the farm his headquarters. She 
assigned him the only bedroom he would accept; viz., a 
cattle-shed, open on one side. She used often to have 
him into her room, when she was alone. She gave him 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 411 

some of her husband’s clothes, and made him wear a 
decent hat; by these means she effaced, in some degree, 
his nationality, and then she compelled her servants to 
call him “ The Foreign Gent.” 

The foreign gent was very apt to disappear in fine 
weather, but rain soon drove him back to her fireside, 
and hunger to her flesh-pots. 

On the very day the foreign gent came to Meyrick’s 
farm, Lady Bassett had a letter by post from Reginald : 

Dear Mamma,—I am gone with the gypsies, across the 
water. I am sorry to leave you. You are the right sort; but 
they tormented me so with their books and their dark rooms. 
It is very unfortunate to be a boy. When I am a man, I 
shall be too old to be tormented, and then I will come back. 

Your dutiful son, 

Reginald. 

Lady Bassett telegraphed Sir Charles, and he returned 
to Huntercombe, looking old, sad, and worn. 

Lady Bassett set herself to comfort and cheer him, 
and this was her gentle office for many a long month. 

She was the more fit for it that her own health and 
spirits revived the moment Reginald left the country 
with his friends, the gypsies. The color crept back to 
her cheek, her spirits revived, and she looked as hand¬ 
some and almost as young as when she married. She 
tasted tranquillity. Year after year went by, without 
any news of Reginald, and the hope grew that he would 
never cross her threshold again, and Compton be Sir 
Charles’s heir, without any more trouble. 


412 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER XLI. 

Our story now makes a bold skip. Compton Bassett 
was fourteen years old, a youtb highly cultivated in 
mind, and trained in body, but not very tall, and rather 
effeminate looking, because he was so fair and his skin 
so white. 

Eor all that, he was one of the bowlers in the Wolcombe 
eleven, whose cricket-ground was the very meadow in 
which he had erst gathered cowslips with Ruperta 
Bassett; and he had a canoe, which he carried to adjacent 
streams, however narrow, and paddled it with singular 
skill and vigor. A neighboring miller, suffering under 
drought, was heard to say, “ There ain’t water enough to 
float a duck; nought can swim but the dab-chicks and 
Muster Bassett.” 

He was also a pedestrian, and got his father to take 
long walks with him, and leave the horses to eat their 
oats in peace. 

In these walks young master botanized and geologized 
his own father, and Sir Charles gave him a little politics, 
history, and English poetry in return. He had a tutor 
fresh from Oxford for the classics. 

One day, returning with his father from a walk, they 
met a young lady walking towards them from the village. 
She was tall, and a superb brunette. 

Now, it was rather a rare thing to see a lady walking 
through that village, so both Sir Charles and his son 
looked keenly at her as she came towards them. 

Compton turned crimson, and raised his hat to her 
rather awkwardly. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


413 


Sir Charles, who did not know the lady from Eve, 
saluted her, nevertheless, and with infinite grace, for Sir 
Charles, in his youth, had lived with some of the elite of 
French society, and those gentlemen bow to the person 
whom their companion bows to. Sir Charles had imported 
this excellent trait of politeness, and always practised it, 
though not the custom in England, the more the pity. 

As soon as the young lady had passed, and was out of 
hearing, Sir Charles said to Compton, “Who is that 
lovely girl ? Why, how the boy is blushing! ” 

“ 0 papa!” 

“Well, what is the matter?” 

“ Don’t you see ? It is herself, come back from school.” 
“ I have no doubt it is herself, and not her sister; but 
who is herself ? ” 

“ Buperta Bassett.” 

“ Bichard Bassett’s daughter ? impossible! That young 
lady looks seventeen or eighteen years of age.” 

“ Yes; but it is Buperta. There’s nobody like her. 
Papa! ” 

“ Well?” 

“ I suppose I may speak to her now ? ” 

“ What for ? ” 

“ She is so beautiful.” 

“ That she really is, and, therefore, I advise you to 
have nothing to say to her. You are not children now, 
you know. Were you to renew that intimacy, you might 
be tempted to fall in love with her. I don’t say you 
would be so mad, for you are a sensible boy; but, still, 
after that little business in the wood ” — 

“ But suppose I did fall in love with her ? ” 

“ Then, that would be a great misfortune. Don’t you 
know that her father is my enemy? If you were to 
make any advances to that young lady, he would seize 
the opportunity to affront you, and me through you.” 


414 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


This silenced Compton, for he was an obedient youth. 

But in the evening he got to his mother, and coaxed 
her to take his part. 

Now Lady Bassett felt the truth of all her husband 
had said; but she had a positive wish the young people 
should be on friendly terms, at all events. She wanted 
the family feud to die with the generation it had afflicted. 
She promised, therefore, to speak to Sir Charles; and so 
great was her influence that she actually obtained terms 
for Compton: he might speak to Miss Bassett, if he 
would realize the whole situation, and be very discreet, 
and not revive that absurd familiarity into which their 
childhood had been betrayed. 

She communicated this to him, and warned him at the 
same time that even this concession had been granted 
somewhat reluctantly, and in consideration of his invari¬ 
able good conduct; it would be immediately withdrawn 
upon the slightest indiscretion. 

“ Oh, I will be discretion itself! ” said Compton; but 
the warmth with which he kissed his mother gave her 
some doubts. However, she was prepared to risk some¬ 
thing. She had her own views in this matter. 

When he had got this limited permission, Master 
Compton was not much nearer the mark; for he was not 
to call on the young lady, and she did not often walk in 
the village. 

But he often thought of her — her loving, sprightly 
ways seven years ago, and the blaze of beauty with which 
she had returned. 

At last, one Sunday afternoon, she came to church 
alone. When the congregation dispersed, he followed 
her, and came up with her, but his heart beat violently. 

“ Miss Bassett! ” said he timidly. 

She stopped and turned her eyes on him; he blushed 
up to the temples. She blushed too, but not quite so 
much. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


415 


“ I am afraid you don’t remember me ? ” said the boy 
sadly. 

“ Yes, I do, sir,” said Ruperta shyly. 

“ How you are grown! ” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“ You are taller than I am — and more beautiful than 
ever.” 

Ho answer, but a blush. 

“ You are not angry with me for speaking to you ? ” 

“Ho, sir.” 

“ I wouldn’t offend you.” 

“ I am not offended. Only ” — 

“ Oh, Miss Bassett, of course I know you will never 
be — we shall never be — like we used! ” 

A very deep blush, and dead silence. 

“ You are a grown-up young lady, and I am only a boy 
still, somehow. But it would have been hard if I might 
not even speak to you. Would it not ? ” 

“ Yes,” said the young lady, but after some hesitation 
and only in a whisper. 

“ I wonder where you walk to. I have never seen you 
out but once.” 

Ho reply to this little feeler. 

Then at last Compton was discouraged, partly by her 
beauty and size, partly by her taciturnity. 

He was silent in return; and so, in a state of mutual 
restraint, they reached the gate of Highmore. 

“ Good-by,” said Compton reluctantly. 

“ Good-by.” 

“ Won’t you shake hands ? ” 

She blushed, and put out her hand half-way. He took 
it, and shook it, and so they parted. 

Compton said to his mother, disconsolately, “ Mamma, 
it is all over. I have seen her, and spoken to her, but 
she has gone off dreadfully.” 


416 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Why, what is the matter ? ” 

“ She is all ohanged. She is so stupid and dignified, 
got to be. She has not a word to say to a fellow.” 

“ Perhaps she is more reserved; that is natural. She 
is a young lady now.” 

“ Then it is a great pity she did not stay as she was. 
Oh, the bright little darling! Who’d think she could 
ever turn into a great, stupid, dignified thing ? She is 
as tall as you, mamma.” 

“ Indeed! She has made use of her time. Well, dear, 
don’t take too much notice of her, and then you will 
find she will not be nearly so shy.” 

“ Too much notice ? I shall never speak to her again 
— perhaps.” 

“ I would not be violent, one way or the other. Why 
not treat her like any other acquaintance ? ” 

Next Sunday afternoon she came to church alone. 

In spite of his resolution, Mr. Compton tried her a 
second time. Horror! she was all monosyllables and 
blushes again. 

Compton began to find it too uphill. At last, when 
they reached Highmore gate, he lost his patience, and 
said, “ I see how it is. I have lost my sweet playmate 
forever. Good-by, Ruperta; I won’t trouble you any 
more.” And he held out his hand to the young lady for 
a final farewell. 

Ruperta whipped both her hands behind her back like 
a school-girl, and then, recovering her dignity, cast one 
swift glance of gentle reproach, then suddenly assuming 
vast stateliness, marched into Highmore like the mother 
of a family. These three changes of manner she effected 
all in less than two seconds. 

Poor Compton went away sorely puzzled by this female 
kaleidoscope, but not a little alarmed and concerned at 
having mortally offended so much feminine dignity. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


417 ' 


After that he did not venture to accost her for some 
time, but he cast a few sheep’s-eyes at her in church. 

Now Ruperta had told her mother all; and her mothei 
had not forbidden her to speak to Compton, but had 
insisted on reserve and discretion. 

She now told her mother she thought he would not 
speak to her any more, she had snubbed him so. 

“Dear me!” said Mrs. Bassett, “why did you do that? 
Can you not be polite, and nothing more ? ” 

“No, mamma.” 

“Why not ? He is very amiable. Everybody says so.” 

“ He is. But I keep remembering what a forward girl 
I was, and I am afraid he has not forgotten it either, and 
that makes me hate the poor little fellow; no, not hate 
him, but keep him off. I dare say he thinks me a cross 
ill-tempered thing; and I am very unkind to him, but I 
can’t help it.” 

“Never mind,” said Mrs. Bassett; “that is much better 
than to be too forward. Papa would never forgive 
that.” 

By and by there was a cricket-match in the farmer’s 
meadow, Highcombe and Huntercombe eleven against 
the town of Staveleigh. All clubs liked to play at 
Huntercombe, because Sir Charles found the tents and 
the dinner, and the young farmers drank his champagne 
to their heart’s content. 

Ruperta took her maid, and went to see the match. 
They found it going against Huntercombe. The score 
as follows: — 

Staveleigh. First innings, a hundred and forty-eight 
runs. 

Huntercombe eighty-eight. 

Staveleigh. Second innings, sixty runs, and only one 
wicket down; and Johnson and Wright, two of their 
best men, well in, and masters of the bowling. 

27 


418 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


This being communicated to Ruperta, she became 
excited, and her soul was in the game. 

The batters went on knocking the balls about, and 
scored thirteen more, before the young lady’s eyes. 

“ Oh, dear! ” said she, “ what is that boy about ? Why 
doesn’t he bowl ? They pretend he is a capital bowler.” 

At this time Compton was standing long-held on, only 
farther from the wicket than usual. 

Johnson at the wicket bowled to, being a hard but not 
very scientific hitter, lifted a half-volley ball right over 
the bowler’s head, a hit for four, but a sky-scraper. 
Compton started the moment he hit, and, running with 
prodigious velocity, caught the ball descending, within a 
few yards of Ruperta; but, to get at it, he was obliged 
to throw himself forward in the air; he rolled upon the 
grass, but held the ball in sight all the while. 

Mr. Johnson was out, and loud acclamations rent the 
sky. 

Compton rose, and saw Ruperta clapping her hands 
close by. 

She left off and blushed, directly he saw her. He 
blushed too, and touched his cap to her, with an air half 
manly, half sheepish; but did not speak to her. 

This was the last ball of the over, and, as the ball was 
now to be delivered from the other wicket, Compton took 
the place of long-leg. 

The third ball was overpitched to leg, and Wright, who, 
like most country players, hit freely to leg, turned half, 
and caught this ball exactly right, and sent it whizzing 
for five. 

But the very force of the stroke was fatal to him; the 
ball went at first bound right into Compton’s hands, 
who instantly flung it back, like a catapult, at Wright’s 
wicket. 

Wright, having hit for five, and being unable to see 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 419 

what had become of the ball, started to run, as a matter 
of course. 

But the other batsman, seeing the ball go into long- 
leg’s hands like a bullet, cried “ Back! ” 

Wright turned, and would have got back to his wicket 
if the ball had required handling by the wicket-keeper; 
but, by a mixture of skill with luck, it came right at the 
wicket. Seeing which, the wicket-keeper very judiciously 
let it alone, and it carried off the bails just half a second 
before Mr. Wright grounded his bat. 

“ How’s that, umpire ? ” cried the wicket-keeper. 

“Out!” said the Staveleigh umpire, who judged at 
that end. 

Up went the ball into the air, amidst great excitement 
of the natives. 

Ruperta, carried away by the general enthusiasm, 
nodded all sparkling to Compton, and that made his 
heart beat, and his soul aspire. So next over he claimed 
his rights, and took the ball. Luck still befriended him; 
he bowled four wickets in twelve overs; the wicket¬ 
keeper stumped a fifth; the rest were the “tail,” and 
disposed of for a few runs, and the total was no more 
than Huntercombe’s first innings. 

Our hero then took the bat, and made forty-seven runs 
before he was disposed of, five wickets down for a hun¬ 
dred and ten runs. The match was not won yet, nor 
sure to be; but the situation was reversed. 

On going out he was loudly applauded; and Ruperta 
naturally felt proud of her admirer. 

Being now free, he came to her irresolutely with some 
iced champagne. 

Ruperta declined, with thanks; but he looked so im¬ 
ploringly that she sipped a little, and said, warmly, “ I 
hope we shall win; and if we do, I know whom we shall 
have to thank.” 


420 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ And so do I; you, Miss Bassett.” 

“ Me ? Why, what have I done in the matter ?” 

“ You brought us luck, for one thing. You put us on 
our mettle. Staveleigh shall never beat me, with you 
looking on.” 

Buperta blushed a little, for the boy’s eyes beamed 
with fire. 

“ If I believed that,” said she, “ I should hire myself 
out at the next match, and charge twelve pairs of gloves.” 

“ You may believe it, then; ask anybody whether our 
luck did not change the moment you came.” 

“ Then I am afraid it will go now, for I am going.” 

“ You will lose us the match if you do,” said Compton. 

“ I can’t help it: now you are out, it is rather insipid. 
There, you see I can pay compliments as well as you.” 

Then she made a graceful inclination and moved away. 

Compton felt his heart ache at parting. He took a 
thought and ran quickly to a certain part of the field. 

Buperta and her attendant walked very slowly home¬ 
ward. 

Compton caught them just at their own gate. “ Cous¬ 
in ! ” said he imploringly, and held her out a nosegay of 
cowslips only. 

At that the memories rushed back on her, and the girl 
seemed literally to melt. She gave him one look full of 
womanly sensibility and winning tenderness, and said 
softly, “ Thank you, cousin.” 

Compton went away on wings ; the ice was broken. 

But the next time he met her it had frozen again, 
apparently. To be sure, she was alone, and young ladies 
will be bolder when they have another person of their 
own sex with them. 

Mr. Angelo called on Sir Charles Bassett to complain 
of a serious grievance. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


421 


Mr. Angelo had become zealous and eloquent; but 
what are eloquence and zeal against sex ? A handsome 
woman had preached for ten minutes upon a little mound 
outside the village, and had announced she should say a 
few parting words next Sunday evening at six o’clock. 

Mr. Angelo complained of this to Lady Bassett. 

Lady Bassett referred him to Sir Charles. 

Mr. Angelo asked that magistrate to enforce the law 
against conventicles. 

Sir Charles said he thought the Act did not apply. 

“Well, but,” said Angelo, “ it is on your ground she is 
going to preach.” 

“ I am the proprietor, but the tenant is the owner in 
law. He could warn me off his ground; I have no power.” 

“ I fear you have no inclination,” said Angelo, nettled. 

“Not much, to tell the truth,” replied Sir Charles coolly. 
“ Does it matter so very much who sows the good seed, 
or whether it is flung abroad from a pulpit or a grassy 
knoll?” 

“That is begging the question, Sir Charles. Why 
assume that it is good seed ? It is more likely to be 
tares than wheat in this case.” 

“ And is not that begging the question ? Well, I will 
make it my business to know; and if she preaches 
sedition or heresy or bad morals, I will strain my power 
a little to silence her. More than that I really cannot 
promise you. The day is gone by for intolerance.” 

“ Intolerance is a bad thing, but the absence of all 
conviction is worse, and that is what we are coming to.” 

“ Not quite that; but the nation has tasted liberty, 
and now every man assumes to do what is right in his 
own eyes.” 

“ That means what is wrong in his neighbors’.” 

Sir Charles thought this neat, and laughed good- 
humoredly j he asked the rector to dine on Sunday at 


422 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


half-past seven. “1 shall know more about it by that 
time,” said he. 

They dined early on Sunday at Highmore, and Ruperta 
took her maid for a walk in the afternoon, and came 
back in time to hear the female preacher. 

Half the village was there already, and presently the 
preacher walked to her station. 

To Ruperta’s surprise, she was a lady richly dressed, 
tall and handsome, but with features rather too command¬ 
ing. She had a glove on her left hand, and a little Bible 
in her right hand, which was large, but white, and finely 
formed. 

She delivered a short prayer and opened her text: — 

“ Walk honestly ; not in strife and envying.” 

Just as the text was given out, Ruperta’s maid pinched 
her, and the young lady, looking up, saw her father 
coming to see what was the matter. Maid was for 
hiding; but Ruperta made a wry face, blushed, and 
stood her ground. “How can he scold me, when he comes 
himself ? ” she whispered. 

During the sermon — of which, short as it was, I can 
only afford to give the outline — in crept Compton Bas¬ 
sett, and got within three or four of Ruperta. 

Finally, Sir Charles Bassett came up, in accordance 
with his promise to Angelo. 

The perfect preacher deals in generalities, but strikes 
them home with a few personalities. 

Most clerical preachers deal only in generalities ; and 
that is ineffective, especially to uncultivated minds. 

Mrs. Marsh, as might be expected from her sex, went 
a little too much the other way. 

After a few sensible words, pointing out the misery in 
houses and the harm done to the soul by a quarrelsome 
spirit, she lamented there was too much of it in Hunter- 
combe. With this opening she went into personalities; 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


423 


reminded them of the fight between two farm-servants 
last week, one of whom was laid up at that moment in 
consequence. " And,” said she, “ even when it does not 
come to fighting, it poisons your lives and offends your 
Redeemer.” 

Then she went into the causes, and she said drunken¬ 
ness and detraction were the chief causes of strife and 
contention. 

She dealt briefly, but dramatically, with drunkenness, 
and then lashed detraction, as follows : — 

“ Every class has its vices, and detraction is the vice 
of the poor. You are ever so much vainer than your 
betters; you are eaten up with vanity, and never give 
your neighbor a good word. I have been in thirty 
houses, and in not one of those houses has any poor 
man or poor woman spoken one honest word in praise 
of a neighbor. So do not flatter yourselves this is a 
Christian village, for it is not. The only excuse to be 
made for you — and I fear it is not one that God will 
accept on His judgment-day — is that your betters set 
you a bad example instead of a good one. The two 
principal people in this village are kinsfolk, yet enemies, 
and have been enemies for twenty years. That’s a nice 
example for two Christian gentlemen to set to poor peo¬ 
ple, who, they may be sure, will copy their sins, if they 
copy nothing else. 

“They go to church regularly, and believe in the 
Bible, and yet they defy both church and Bible. 

“ How I should like to ask those gentlemen a question. 
How do they mean to manage in heaven ? When the 
baronet comes to that happy place, where all is love, will 
the squire walk out ? Or do they think to quarrel there, 
and so get turned out, both of them ? I don’t wonder 
at your smiling; but it is a serious consideration, for all 
that. The soul of man is immortal; and what is the 


424 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


soul ? it is not a substantial thing like the body: it is a 
bundle of thoughts and feelings : the thoughts we die 
with in this world, we shall wake up with them in the 
next. Yet here are two Christians loading their im¬ 
mortal souls with immortal hate. What a waste of feel¬ 
ing, if it must all be flung off together with the body, 
lest it drag the souls of both down to bottomless per¬ 
dition. 

“ And what do they gain in this world ? Irritation, 
ill-health, and misery. It is a fact, that no man ever 
reached a great old age who hated his neighbor, still less 
a good old age ; for if men would look honestly into their 
own hearts, they would own that to hate is to be misera¬ 
ble. 

“I believe no men commit a sin for many years with¬ 
out some special warnings, and to neglect these is one 
sin more added to their account. Such a warning, or 
rather, I should say, such a pleading of Divine love, 
those two gentlemen have had. Do you remember, about 
eight years ago, two children were lost on one day, out 
of different houses in this village ? (A murmur from 
the crowd.) 

“ Perhaps some of you here present were instrumental, 
under God, in finding that pretty pair?” (A louder 
murmur.) 

“ Oh, don’t be afraid to answer me. Preaching is only 
a way of speaking; and I’m only a woman that is speak¬ 
ing to you for your good. Tell me—we are not in 
church, tied up by strait-laced rules to keep men and 
women from getting within arm’s length of one another’s 
souls — tell me, who saw those two lost children ? ” 

“ I! I! I! I! I! ” roared several voices in reply. 

“Is it true, as a good woman tells me, that the innocent 
darlings had each an arm round the other’s neck ? ” 

“Ay I” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


425 


“ And little coronets of flowers to match their hair ? ” 
(That was the girl's doing.) 

“Ay!” 

“ And the little boy had played the man, and taken off 
his tippet to put round the little lady ? ” 

“ Ay! ” with a burst of enthusiasm from the assem¬ 
bled rustics. 

“I think I see them myself; and the torches lighting 
up the dewy leaves overhead, and that divine picture of 
innocent love. Well, which was the prettiest sight, and 
the fittest for heaven — the hatred of the parents, or the 
affection of the children ? 

“And now mark what a weapon hatred is in the 
devil’s hands. There are only two people in this parish 
on whom that sight was wasted, and those two, being 
gentlemen and men of education, would have been more 
affected by it than humble folk, if hell had not been in 
their hearts; for hate comes from hell, and takes men 
down to the place it comes from. 

“ Do you, then, shun, in that one thing, the example of 
your betters; and I hope those children will shun it too. 
A father is to be treated with great veneration, but above 
all is our Heavenly Father and His law, and that law, 
what is it?—what has it been this eighteen hundred 
years and more ?—why, Love. 

“Would you be happy in this world, and fit your 
souls to dwell hereafter even in the meanest of the 
many mansions prepared above, you must, above all 
things, be charitable. You must not run your neighbor 
down behind his back, or God will hate you: you must 
not wound him to his face, or God will hate you. You 
must overlook a fault or two, and see a man’s bright side, 
and then God will love you. If you won’t do that much 
for your neighbor, why, in heaven’s name, should God 
overlook a multitude of sins in you ? 


426 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Nothing goes to heaven surer than charity, and 
nothing is so fit to sit in heaven. St. Paul had many 
things to be proud of, and to praise in himself, things 
that the world is more apt to admire than Christian 
charity, the sweetest, but humblest of all the Christian 
graces: St. Paul, I say, was a bulwark of learning, an 
anchor of faith, a rock of constancy, a thunderbolt of 
zeal: yet see how he bestows the palm: 

“ ‘ Knowledge puffeth up, but charity edifieth. Though 
I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and 
have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or 
a tinkling cymbal. And, though I have the gift of 
prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowl¬ 
edge ; and though I have all faith, so that I could 
remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. 
And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and 
though I give my body to be burned, and have not 
charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity suffereth long 
and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not 
itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, 
seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no 
evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the 
truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth 
all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth: 
but prophecies — they shall fail; tongues — they shall 
cease; knowledge — it shall vanish away. And now 
abideth faith, hope, and charity, these three, but the 
greatest of these is charity. 5 55 

The fair orator delivered these words with such fire, 
such feeling, such trumpet-toned and heart-felt eloquence, 
that for the first time, those immortal words sounded in 
these village ears true oracles of God. 

Then, without pause, she went on : “ So let us lift our 
hearts in earnest prayer to God, that, in this world of 
thorns, and tempers, and trials, and troubles, and cares, 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


427 


He will give us the best cure for all — the great sweet¬ 
ener of this mortal life, the sure forerunner of heaven — 
His most excellent gift of charity.” Then, in one 
generous burst, she prayed for love divine, and there 
was many a sigh, and many a tear, and, at the close, an 
“ Amen ” — such as, alas ! we shall never, I fear, hear — 
burst from a hundred bosoms, where men repeat beauti¬ 
ful but stale words, and call it prayer. 

The preacher retired, but the people still lingered spell- 
bound, and then arose that buzz which shows that the 
words have gone home. 

As for Richard Bassett, he had turned on his heel, 
indignant, as soon as the preacher’s admonitions came 
his way. 

Sir Charles Bassett stood his ground rather longer, 
being steeled by the conviction that the quarrel was 
none of his seeking. Moreover, he was not aware what 
a good friend this woman had been to him, nor what a 
good wife she had been to Marsh this seventeen years. 
His mind, therefore, made a clear leap from Rhoda 
Somerset, the vixen of Hyde Park and Mayfair, to this 
preacher, and he could not help smiling; than which a 
worse frame for receiving unpalatable truths can hardly 
be conceived. And so the elders were obdurate. But 
Compton and Ruperta had no armor of old age, egotism, 
or prejudice, to turn the darts of honest eloquence. 
They listened, as to the voice of an angel; they gazed, 
as on the face of an angel; and when those silvery 
accents ceased, they turned towards each other, and 
came towards each other with the sweet enthusiasm that 
became their years. 

“ Oh, Cousin Ruperta! ” quavered Compton. “ Oh, 
Cousin Compton! ” cried Ruperta, the tears trickling 
down her lovely cheeks. 

They could not say any more for ever so long. 


428 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Ruperta spoke first. She gave a final gulp, and said, 
“I will go and speak to her, and thank her.” 

“Oh, Miss Ruperta, we shall be too late for tea,” 
suggested the maid. 

“ Tea! ” said Ruperta. “ Our souls are before our 
tea! I must speak to her, or else my heart will choke 
me, and kill me. I will go — and so will Compton.” 

“ Oh, yes! ” said Compton. 

And they hurried after the preacher. 

They came up with her, flushed and panting; and now 
it was Compton’s turn to be shy; the lady was so tall 
and stately too. 

But Ruperta was not much afraid of anything in 
petticoats. “ Oh, madam,” said she, “ if you please, may 
we speak to you ? ” 

Mrs. Marsh turned round, and her somewhat aquiline 
features softened instantly at the two specimens of 
beauty and innocence that had run after her. 

“ Certainly, my young friends,” and she smiled mater¬ 
nally on them. She had children of her own. 

“ Who do you think we are ? We are the two naughty 
children you preached about so beautifully.” 

“ What, you the babes in the wood ? ” 

“Yes, madam. It was a long, long while ago, and we 
are fifteen now; are we not, Cousin Compton ? ” 

“ Yes, madam.” 

“ And we are both so unhappy at our parents quarrel¬ 
ling. At least I am.” 

“ And so am I.” 

“ And we came to thank you. Didn’t we, Compton ? ” 

“Yes, Ruperta.” 

“ And to ask your advice. How are we to make our 
parents be friends ? Old people will not be advised by 
young ones. They look down on us so; it is dreadful.” 

“ My dear young lady,” said Mrs. Marsh, “ I will try 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


429 


and answer you: but let me sit down a minute; for after 
preaching, I am apt to feel a little exhausted. Now sit 
beside me, and give me each a hand, if you please. 

“Well, my dears, I have been teaching you a lesson; 
and now you teach me one; and that is, how much 
easier it is to preach reconciliation and charity, than it 
is to practise it under certain circumstances. However, 
my advice to you is first to pray to God for wisdom in 
this thing: and then to watch every opportunity. Dis¬ 
suade your parents from every unkind act: don’t be 
afraid to speak — with the word of God at your back. 
I know that you have no easy task before you. Sir 
Charles Bassett and Mr. Bassett were both among my 
hearers, and both turned their backs on me, and went 
away unsoftened; they would not give me a chance; 
would not hear me to an end, and I am not a worthy 
preacher neither.” 

Here an interruption occurred. Ruperta, so shy and 
cold with Compton, flung her arms round Mrs. Marsh’s 
neck, with the tears in her eyes, and kissed her eagerly. 

“Yes, my dear,” said Mrs. Marsh, after kissing her in 
turn, “ I was a little mortified. But that was very weak 
and foolish. I am sorry, for their own sakes, they would 
stay; it was the word of God; but they saw only the 
unworthy instrument. Well, then, my dears, you have a 
hard task; but you must work upon your mothers, and 
win them to charity.” 

“ Ah! that will be easy enough. My mother has never 
approved this unhappy quarrel.” 

“No more has mine.” 

“ Is it so ? Then you must try and get the two ladies 
to speak to each other. But something tells me that a 
way will be opened. Have patience. Have faith: and 
do not mind a check or two; but persevere, remember¬ 
ing that ‘ blessed are the peacemakers.’ ” 


430 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


She then rose, and they took leave of her. 

“ Give me a kiss, children,” said she. “ You have done 
me a world of good. My own heart often flags on the 
road, and you have warmed and comforted it. God bless 
you! ” 

And so they parted. 

Compton and Ruperta walked homewards. Ruperta 
was very thoughtful, and Compton could only get mono¬ 
syllables out of her. This discouraged, and at last 
vexed him. 

“ What have I done,” said he, “ that you will speak to 
anybody but me ? ” 

“Don’t be cross, child,” said she; “but answer me a 
question. Did you put your tippet round me in that 
wood ? ” 

“I suppose so.” 

“ Oh, then you don’t remember doing it, eh ? ” 

“No; that I don’t.” 

“ Then what makes you think you did ? ” 

“Because they say so. Because I must have been 
such an awful cad if I didn’t. And I was always much 
fonder of you than you were of me. My tippet! I’d 
give my head sooner than any harm should come to you, 
Ruperta.” 

Ruperta made no reply, but, being now at Highmore, 
she put out her hand to him, and turned her head away. 
He kissed her hand devotedly, and so they parted. 

Compton told Lady Bassett all that had happened, and 
Ruperta told Mrs. Bassett. 

Those ladies readily promised to be on the side of 
peace, but they feared it could only be the work of time, 
and said so. 

By and by Compton got impatient, and told Ruperta 
he had thought of a way to compel their fathers to be 
friends. “ I am afraid you won’t like the idea at first,” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


431 


said he; “ but the more you think of it the more you 
will see it is the surest way of all.” 

“ Well, but what is it ? ” 

“ You must let me marry you.” 

Ruperta stared, and began to blush crimson. 

“ Will you, cousin ? ” 

“ Of course not, child. The idea! ” 

“ Oh, Ruperta,” cried the boy in dismay, “ surely you 
don’t mean to marry anybody else but me ! ” 

“ Would that make you very unhappy, then ? ” 

“ You know it would; wretched for my life.” 

“ I should not like to do that. But I disapprove of 
early marriages. I mean to wait till I’m nineteen, and 
that is three years nearly.” 

“ It is a fearful time; but if you will promise not to 
marry anybody else, I suppose I shall live through it.” 

Ruperta, though she made light of Compton’s offer, 
was very proud of it (it was her first). She told her 
mother directly. 

Mrs. Bassett sighed, and said that was too blessed a 
thing ever to happen. 

“ Why not ? ” said Ruperta. 

“ How could it,” said Mrs. Bassett, “ with everybody 
against it but poor little me ? ” 

“ Compton assures me that Lady Bassett wishes it.” 

“ Indeed! But Sir Charles and papa, Ruperta ? ” 

“ Oh, Compton must talk Sir Charles over, and I will 
persuade papa. I’ll begin this evening, when he comes 
home from London.” 

Accordingly as he was sitting alone in the dining¬ 
room, sipping his glass of port, Ruperta slipped away 
from her mother’s side and found him. 

His face brightened at the sight of her; for he was 
extremely fond and proud of this girl, for whom he 
would not have the bells rung when she was born. 


432 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


She came and hung round his neck a little, and kissed 
him, and said softly, “ Dear papa, I have something to 
tell you. I have had a proposal.” 

Eichard Bassett stared. 

“ What, of marriage ? ” 

Euperta nodded archly. 

“ To a child like you ? Scandalous! No, for after 
all, you look nineteen or twenty. And who is the high¬ 
wayman that thinks to rob me of my precious girl ? ” 

“ Well, papa, whoever he is, he will have to wait three 
years, and so I told him. It is my cousin Compton.” 

“ What! ” cried Eichard Bassett, so loudly, that the 
girl started back dismayed. “ That little monkey have 
the impudence to offer marriage to my daughter ? 
Surely, Euperta, you have offered him no encourage¬ 
ment ? ” 

“ N—no.” 

“Your mother promised me nothing but common 
civility should pass between you and that young gentle¬ 
man.” 

“ She promised for me, but she could not promise for 
him : poor little fellow.” 

“ Marry a son of the man who has robbed and insulted 
your father ? ” 

“Oh, papa! is it so? Are you sure you did not 
begin ? ” 

“ If you can think that, it is useless to say more. I 
thought ill-fortune had done its worst; but no: blow 
upon blow, and wound upon wound. Don’t spare me, 
child : nobody else has ; and why should you ? Marry 
my enemy’s son, his younger son, and break your father’s 
heart.” 

At this, what could a sensitive girl of sixteen do, but 
burst out crying, and promise, round her father’s neck, 
never to marry any one whom he disliked ? 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


433 


When she had made this promise, her father fondled 
and petted her, and his tenderness consoled her, for she 
was not passionately in love with her cousin. 

Yet she cried a good deal over the letter in which she 
communicated this to Compton. 

He lay in wait for her; but she baffled him for three 
weeks. 

After that, she relaxed her vigilance, for she had no 
real wish to avoid him, and was curious to see whether 
she had cured him. 

He met her: and his conduct took her by surprise. 
He was pale, and looked very wretched. 

He said, solemnly, “Were you jesting with me, when 
you promised to marry no one but me ? ” 

“No, Compton. But you know I could never marry 
you without papa’s consent.” 

“ Of course not; but what I fear, he might wish you 
to marry somebody else.” 

“ Then I should refuse. I will never break my word 
to you, cousin. I am not in love with you, you are too 
young for that—but somehow I feel I could not make 
you unhappy. Can’t you trust my word ? You might. 
I come of the same people as you. Why do you look so 
pale ? —we are very unhappy.” 

Then the tears began to steal down her cheeks; and 
Compton’s soon followed. 

Compton consulted his mother. She told him, with a 
sigh, she was powerless. Sir Charles might yield to her, 
but she had no power to influence Mr. Bassett at present. 
“ The time may come,” said she. She could not take a 
very serious view of this amour, except with regard to 
its pacific results; so Mr. Bassett’s opposition chilled 
her in the matter. 

While things were so, something occurred that drove 
all these minor things out of her distracted heart. 

28 


434 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


One summer evening, as she and Sir Charles and 
Compton sat at dinner, a servant came in to say there 
was a stranger at the door, and he called himself Bassett. 

“ What is he like ? ” said Lady Bassett, turning pale. 

“ He looks like a foreigner, my lady. He says he is 
Mr. Bassett,” repeated the man, with a scandalized air. 

Sir Charles got up directly, and hurried to the hall 
door. Compton followed Lady Bassett to the door only, 
and looked. 

Sure enough it was Beginald, full grown, and bold, as 
handsome as ever, and darker than ever. 

In that moment, his misconduct in running away never 
occurred either to Sir Charles or Compton, all was eager 
and tremulous welcome. The hall rang with joy. They 
almost carried him into the- dining-room. 

The first thing they saw was a train of violet-colored 
velvet half hidden by the table. 

Compton ran forward, with a cry of dismay. 

It was Lady Bassett, in a dead swoon, her face as 
white as her neck and arms, and these as white and 
smooth as satin. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


435 


CHAPTER XLII. 

Lady Bassett was carried to her room, and did not 
reappear. She kept her own apartments, and her health 
declined so rapidly, that Sir Charles sent for Dr. Willis. 
He prescribed for the body, but the disease lay in the 
mind. Martyr to an inward struggle, she pined visibly, 
and her beautiful eyes began to shine, like stars, preter- 
naturally large. She was in a frightful condition: she 
longed to tell the truth, and end it all; but then she 
must lose her adored husband’s respect, and perhaps his 
love; and she had not the courage. She saw no way out 
of it but to die, and leave her confession; and, as she 
felt that the agony of her soul was killing her by 
degrees, she drew a sombre resignation from that. 

She declined to see Reginald. She could not bear the 
sight of him. 

Compton came to her many times a day, with a face 
full of concern, and even terror. But she would not 
talk to him of herself. 

He brought her all the news he heard, having no other 
way to cheer her. 

One day he told her there were robbers about. Two 
farm-houses had been robbed, — a thing not known in 
these parts for many years. 

Lady Bassett shuddered, but said nothing. 

But by and by her beloved son came to her in distress 
with a grief of his own. 

Ruperta Bassett was now the beauty of the county, 
and it seems Mr. Rutland had danced with her, at her 
first ball, and been violently smitten with her: he had 


436 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


called more than once at Highmore, and his attentions 
were directly encouraged by Mr. Bassett. Now Mr. 
Butland was heir to a peerage, and also to considerable 
estates in the county. 

Compton was sick at heart, and, being young, saw his 
life about to be blighted; so now he was pale and woe¬ 
begone, and told her the sad news with such deep sighs, 
and imploring, tearful eyes, that all the mother rose in 
arms. “ Ah! ” said she, “ they say to themselves that I 
am down, and cannot fight for my child; but I would 
fight for him on the edge of the grave. Let me think 
all by myself, dear. Come back to me in an hour. I 
shall do something. Your mother is a very cunning 
woman — for those she loves.” 

Compton kissed her gown, a favorite action of his, — 
for he worshipped her, — and went away. 

The invalid laid her hollow cheek upon her wasted 
hand, and thought with all her might. By degrees her 
extraordinary brain developed a twofold plan of action, 
and she proceeded to execute the first part, being the 
least difficult, though even that was not easy, and brought 
a vivid blush to her wasted cheek. 

She wrote to Mrs. Bassett: 

Madam, — I am very ill, and life is uncertain. Something 
tells me you, like me, regret the unhappy feud between our 
houses. If this is so, it would be a consolation to me to take 
you by the hand, and exchange a few words, as we already 
have a few kind looks. 

Yours respectfully, 

Bella Bassett. 

She showed this letter to Compton, and told him he 
might send a servant with it to Highmore at once. 

“ Oh, mamma! ” said he, “ I never thought you would 
do that: how good you are ! You couldn’t ask Buperta, 
could you ? just in a little postscript, you know.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


437 


Lady Bassett shook her head. 

“ That would not be wise, my dear. Let me hook 
that fish for you, not frighten her away.” 

Great was the astonishment at Highmore, when a blaz¬ 
ing footman knocked at the door, and handed Jessie the 
letter with assumed nonchalance, then stalked away, 
concealing with professional art his own astonishment 
at what he had done. 

It was no business of Jessie’s to take letters into the 
drawing-room: she would have deposited any other 
letter on the hall-table; but she brought this one in, 
and, standing at the door, exclaimed, “ Here a letter fr’ 
Huntercombe! ” 

Bichard Bassett, Mrs. Bassett, and Buperta all turned 
upon her with one accord. 

“ From where ? ” 

“Fr’ Huntercombe itsel’. Et isna for you, nor for 
you, missy : et’s for the mesterress.” 

She marched proudly up to Mrs. Bassett, and laid the 
letter down on the table ; then drew back a step or two, 
and, being Scotch, coolly waited to hear the contents. 
Bichard Bassett, being English, told her she need not stay. 

Mrs. Bassett cast a bewildered look at her husband 
and daughter, then opened the letter quietly, read it 
quietly, and, having read it, took out her handkerchief 
and began to cry quietly. 

Buperta cried, “ Oh, mamma! ” and in a moment had 
one long arm round her mother’s neck, while the other 
hand seized the letter, and she read it aloud, cheek to 
cheek ; but, before she got to an end her mother’s tears 
infected her, and she must whimper too. 

“ Here are a couple of geese,” said Bichard Bassett. 
“ Can’t you write a civil reply to a civil letter, without 
snivelling ? I’ll answer the letter for you.” 

“Ho,” said Mrs. Bassett. 


438 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Richard was amazed: Ruperta ditto. 

The little woman had never dealt in u Noes,” least of 
all to her husband; and besides, this was such a plump 
“ No.” It came out of her mouth like a marble. 

I think the sound surprised even herself a little, for 
she proceeded to justify it at once. “I have been a 
better wife than a Christian this many years ; but there’s 
a limit. And, Richard, I should never have married you, 
if you had told me we were to be at war all our lives 
with our next neighbor, that everybody respects. To 
live in the country, and not speak to our only neighbor, 
that is a life I never would have left my father’s house 
for. Hot that I complain: if you have been bitter to 
them, you have always been good and kind to me: and I 
hope I have done my best to deserve it; but, when a sick 
lady, and perhaps dying, holds out her hand to me — 
write her one of your cold-blooded letters ! That I 
won’t. Reply ? my reply will be just putting on my 
bonnet, and going to her this afternoon. It is Passion- 
week too; and that’s not a week to play the heathen. 
Poor lady ! I’ve seen in her sweet eyes this many 
years, that she would gladly be friends with me; and she 
never passed me close, but she bowed to me, in church 
or out, even when we were at daggers-drawn. She is a 
lady, a real lady, every inch. But it is not that alto¬ 
gether: no, if a sick woman called me to her bedside 
this week, I’d go, whether she wrote from Huntercombe 
Hall, or the poorest house in the place; else how could 
I hope my Saviour would come to my bedside, at my 
last hour ? ” 

This honest burst from a meek lady, who never talked 
nonsense to be sure, but seldom went into eloquence, 
staggered Richard Bassett, and enraptured Ruperta so, 
that she flung both arms round her mother’s neck, and 
cried, “ Oh, mamma, I always thought you were the best 
woman in England : and now I know it.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


439 


“ Well, well, well,” said Richard, kindly enough : then 
to Ruperta, “ Did I ever say she was not the best woman 
in England ? So you need not set up your throats neck 
and neck at me, like two geese at a fox. Unfortunately, 
she is the simplest woman in England, as well as the 
best; and she is going to visit the cunningest. That 
Lady Bassett will turn your mother inside out in no time. 
I wish you would go with her : you are a shrewd girl.” 

“My daughter will not go till she is asked,” said 
Mrs. Bassett firmly. 

“ In that case,” said Richard dryly, “ let us hope the 
Lord will protect you, since it is for love of Him you 
go into a she-fox’s den.” 

No reply was vouchsafed to this aspiration, the words 
being the words of faith, but the voice the voice of 
scepticism. 

Mrs. Bassett put on her bonnet and went to Hunter- 
combe Hall. 

After a very short delay she was ushered up-stairs to 
the room where Lady Bassett was lying on a sofa. 

Lady Bassett heard her coming, and rose to receive her. 

She made Mrs. Bassett a court courtesy so graceful 
and profound that it rather frightened the little woman. 
Seeing which, Lady Bassett changed her style, and came 
forward, extending both hands with admirable grace, and 
gentle amity, not overdone. 

Mrs. Bassett gave her both hands, and they looked full 
at each other in silence, till the eyes of both ladies 
began to fill. 

“ You would have come — like this — years ago — at 
a word ? ” faltered Lady Bassett. 

“ Yes,” gulped Mrs. Bassett. 

Then there was another long pause. 

“ Oh, Lady Bassett, what a life! It is a wonder it 
has not killed us both.” 


440 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ It will kill one of us.” 

“ Not if I can help it.” 

“ God bless you for saying so! Dear madam, sit by 
me, and let me hold the hand I might have had years 
ago, if I had had the courage.” 

“ Why should you take the blame ? ” said Mrs. Bas¬ 
sett. “ We have both been good wives : too obedient, 
perhaps. But to have to choose between a husband’s 
commands and God’s law, that is a terrible thing for any 
poor woman.” 

“ It is indeed.” 

Then there was another silence, and an awkward pause. 
Mrs. Bassett broke it with some hesitation. “ I hope, 
Lady Bassett, your present illness is not in any way — 
I hope you do not fear anything more from my husband ? ” 

“ Oh, Mrs. Bassett! how can I help fearing it, espe¬ 
cially if we provoke him ? Mr. Reginald Bassett has 
returned, and you know he once gave your husband 
cause for just resentment.” 

“ Well, but he is older now, and has more sense. Even 
if he should, Ruperta and I must try and keep the peace.” 

“ Ruperta! I wish I had asked you to bring her with 
you. But I feared to ask too much at once.” 

“ I’ll send her to you to-morrow, Lady Bassett.” 

“No, bring her.” 

“ Then tell me your hour.” 

Yes, and I will send somebody out of the way. I 
want you both to myself.” 

While this conversation was going on at Huntercombe, 
Richard Bassett, being left alone with his daughter, pro¬ 
ceeded to work with his usual skill upon her young 
mind. 

He reminded her of Mr. Rutland’s prospects, and said 
he hoped to see her a countess, and the loveliest jewel of 
the peerage. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


441 


He then told her Mr. Rutland was coming to stay a 
day or two next week, and requested her to receive him 
graciously. 

She promised that at once. 

“That,” said he, “will be a much better match for 
you than the younger son of Sir Charles Bassett. How¬ 
ever, my girl is too proud to go into a family where she 
is not welcome.” 

“ Much too proud for that,” said Ruperta. 

He left her smarting under that suggestion. 

Whilst he was smoking his cigar in the garden, Mrs. 
Bassett came home; she was in raptures with Lady 
Bassett, and told her daughter all that had passed; and, 
in conclusion, that she had promised Lady Bassett to 
take her to Huntercombe to-morrow. 

“ Me, dear! ” cried Ruperta; “ why, what can she want 
of me ? ” 

“ All I know is, her ladyship wishes very much to see 
you. In my opinion you will be very welcome to poor 
Lady Bassett.” 

“ Is she very ill ? ” 

Mrs. Bassett shook her head. “ She is much changed. 
She says she should be better if we were all at peace : 
but I don’t know.” 

“ Oh, mamma, I wish it was to-morrow.” 

They went to Huntercombe next day; and, ill as she 
was, Lady Bassett received them charmingly. She was 
startled by Ruperta’s beauty and womanly appearance, 
but too well-bred to show it, or say it, all in a moment. 

She spoke to the mother first; but presently took 
occasion to turn to the daughter, and to say, “May I 
hope, Miss Bassett, that you are on the side of peace, 
like your dear mother and myself ? ” 

“ I am,” said Ruperta firmly; “ I always was — espe¬ 
cially after that beautiful sermon, you know, mamma.” 


442 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Says the proud mother, “You might tell Lady Bassett 
you think it is your mission to reunite your father and 
Sir Charles.” 

“ Mamma! ” said Buperta reproachfully. That was to 
stop her mouth. “If you tell all the wild things I say 
to you, her ladyship will think me very presumptuous.” 

“No, no,” said Lady Bassett, “enthusiasm is not pre¬ 
sumption. Enthusiasm is beautiful, and the brightest 
flower of youth.” 

“I am glad you think so, Lady Bassett; for people 
who have no enthusiasm seem very hard and mean to 
me.” 

“ And so they are,” said Lady Bassett warmly. 

But I have no time to record the full details of the 
conversation. I can only present the general result. 
Lady Bassett thought Buperta a beautiful and noble 
girl, that any house might be proud to adopt; and Bu¬ 
perta was charmed by Lady Bassett’s exquisite manners, 
and touched and interested by her pale yet still beauti¬ 
ful face and eyes. They made friends: but it was not 
till the third visit, when many kind things had passed 
between them, that Lady Bassett ventured on the subject 
she had at heart. “My dear,” said she to Buperta, 
“ when I first saw you, I wondered at my son Compton’s 
audacity in loving a young lady so much more advanced 
than himself; but now I must be frank with you; I 
think the poor boy’s audacity was only a proper courage. 
He has all my sympathy, and, if he is not quite indiffer¬ 
ent to you, let me just put in my word, and say there 
is not a young lady in the world I could bear for my 
daughter-in-law, now I have seen and talked with you, 
my dear.” 

“ Thank you, Lady Bassett,” said Mrs. Bassett; “ and, 
since you have said so much, let me speak my mind. So 
long as your son is attached to my daughter, I could 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


443 


never welcome any other son-in-law. I have got the 

TIPPET.” 

Lady Bassett looked at Ruperta for an explanation. 
Ruperta only blushed, and looked uncomfortable. She 
hated all allusion to the feats of her childhood. 

Mrs. Bassett saw Lady Bassett’s look of perplexity, 
and said, eagerly, “You never missed it? All the bet¬ 
ter. I thought I would keep it, for a peacemaker partly.” 

“ My dear friend,” said Lady Bassett, “ you are speak¬ 
ing riddles to me. What tippet ? ” 

“ The tippet your son took off his own shoulders, and 
put it round my girl that terrible night they were lost 
in the wood. Forgive me keeping it, Lady Bassett — I 
know I was little better than a thief — but it was only a 
tippet to you, and to me it was much more. Ah! Lady 
Bassett, I have loved your darling boy ever since — you 
can’t wonder — you are a mother; and,” turning sud¬ 
denly on Ruperta, “ why do you keep saying he is only 
a boy ? If he was man enough to do that at seven years 
of age, he must have a manly heart. No, I couldn’t bear 
the sight of any other son-in-law; and when you are a 
mother, you’ll understand many things, and for one you’ll 
under—stand — why I’m so fool—ish: seeing the sweet 
boy’s mother ready — to cry — too — oh ! oh! oh ! ” 

Lady Bassett held out her arms to her, and the mothers 
had a sweet cry together in each other’s arms. 

Ruperta’s eyes were wet at this, but she told her 
mother she ought not to agitate Lady Bassett, and she 
so ill. 

“ And that is true, my good, sensible girl, ’’said Mrs. 
Bassett; “but it has lain in my heart this nine years, and 
I could not keep it to myself any longer. But you are 
a beauty, and a spoiled child, and so I suppose you think 
nothing of his giving you his tippet to keep you warm ? ” 
“ Don’t say that, mamma,” said Ruperta reproachfully. 


444 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ I spoke to dear Compton about it not long ago. He 
bad forgotten all about it even.” 

“ All tbe more to his credit, but don’t you ever forget 
it, my own girl.” 

“ I never will, mamma.” 

By degrees, the three became so unreserved that Ru- 
perta was gently urged to declare her real sentiments. 

By this time the young beauty was quite cured of her 
fear lest she should be an unwelcome daughter-in-law; 
but there was an obstacle in her own mind. She was a 
frank, courageous girl, but this appeal tried her hard. 

She blushed, fixed her eyes steadily on the ground, 
and said pretty firmly, and very slowly — “ I had always 
a great affection for my cousin Compton, and so I have 
now; but I am not in love with him. He is but a boy; 
now I ” — 

A glance at the large mirror, and a superb smile of 
beauty and conscious womanhood, completed the sentence. 

“ He will get older every day,” said Mrs. Bassett. 

“And so shall I.” 

“ But you will not look older, and he will. You have 
come to your full growth. He hasn’t.” 

“ I agree with the dear girl,” said Lady Bassett adroitly. 
“ Compton, with his fair hair, looks so young it would be 
ridiculous at present. But it is possible to be engaged, 
and wait a proper time for marriage ; what I fear is lest 
you should be tempted by some other offer. To speak 
plainly, I hear that Mr. Rutland pays his addresses to 
you, and visits at Highmore.” 

“ Yes, he has been there twice.” 

“ He is welcome to your father, and his prospects are 
dazzling, and he is not a boy, for he has long mustaches.” 

“ I am not dazzled by his mustaches, and still less by 
his prospects,” said the fair young beauty. 

“You are an extraordinary girl.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


445 


“ That she is,” said Mrs. Bassett. “ Her father has 
no more power over her than I have.” 

“ Oh, mamma! am I a disobedient girl then ? ” 

“No, no. Only in this one thing I see you will go 
your own way.” 

Lady Bassett put in her word. “Well, but this one 
thing is the happiness or misery of her whole life. I 
cannot blame her for looking well before she leaps.” 

A grateful look from Ruperta’s glorious eyes repaid 
the speaker. 

“But,” said Lady Bassett tenderly, “it is something 
to have two mothers when you marry, instead of one ; 
and you would have two, my love; I would try and live 
for you.” 

This touched Ruperta to the heart; she curled round 
Lady Bassett’s neck, and they kissed each other like 
mother and daughter. 

“ This is too great a temptation,” said Ruperta. “ Yes, 
I will engage myself to Cousin Compton, if papa’s con¬ 
sent can be obtained. Without his consent I could not 
marry any one.” 

“Nobody can obtain it if you cannot,” said Mrs. Bas¬ 
sett. 

Ruperta shook her head. “ Mark my words, mamma, 
it will take me years to gain it. Papa is as obstinate as 
a mule. To be sure, I am as obstinate as fifty.” 

“ It shall not take years, nor yet months,” said Lady 
Bassett. “I know Mr. Bassett’s> objection, and I will 
remove it, cost me what it may.” 

This speech surprised the other two ladies, so they 
made no reply. 

Said Lady Bassett firmly, “ Do you pledge yourself to 
me if I can obtain Mr. Bassett’s consent ? ” 

“ I do,” said Ruperta, “ but ”— 

“You think my power with your father must be 


446 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


smaller than yours. I hope to show you you are mis¬ 
taken.” 

The ladies rose to go; Lady Bassett took leave of 
them thus: “ Good-by, my most valued friend, and sister 
in sorrow — good-by, my dear daughter.” 

At the gate of Huntercombe whom should they meet 
but Compton Bassett, looking very pale and unhappy! 

He was upon honor not to speak to Ruperta, but he 
gazed on her with a wistful and terrified look that was 
very touching. She gave him a soft pitying smile in 
return, that drove him almost wild with hope. 

That night Richard Bassett sat in his chair, gloomy. 

When his wife and daughter spoke to him in their 
soft accents, he returned short, surly answers. Evidently 
a storm was brewing. 

At last it burst. He had heard of Ruperta’s repeated 
visits to Huntercombe Hall. “ You are not dealing fairly 
with me, you two,” said he. “ I allowed you to go once 
to see a woman that says she is very ill, but I warned 
you she was the cunningest woman in creation, and 
would make a fool of you both; and now I find you are 
always going. This will not do. She is netting two 
•simple birds that I have the care of. How, listen to me. 
I forbid you two ever to set foot in that house again. 
Do you hear me ? ” 

“We hear you, papa,” said Mrs. Bassett, quietly; 
“ we must be deaf if we did not.” 

Ruperta kept her countenance with difficulty. 

“ It is not a request, it is a command.” 

Mrs. Bassett for once in her life fired up. “And a 
most tyrannical one,” said she. 

Ruperta put her hand before her mother’s mouth, 
then turned to her father. 

“There was no need to express your wish so harshly, 
papa. We shall obey.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


447 


Then she whispered her mother, “And Mr. Rutland 
shall pay for it.” 

Mrs. Bassett communicated this behest to Lady Bas¬ 
sett in a letter. 

Then Lady Bassett summoned all her courage, and 
sent for her son Compton. 

“Compton,” said she, “I must' speak to Reginald. 
Can you find him ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, I can find him. I am sorry to say anybody 
can find him at this time of day.” 

“ Why, where is he ? ” 

“ I hardly like to tell you.” 

“ Do you think his peculiarities have escaped me ? ” 

“ At the public-house.” 

“ Ask him to come to me.” 

Compton went to the public-house, and there, to his 
no small disgust, found Mr. Reginald Bassett playing 
the fiddle, and four people, men and women, dancing to 
the sound, whilst one or two more smoked and looked on. 

Compton restrained himself till the end of that 
dance, and then stepped up to Reginald, and whispered 
him, “ Mamma wants to see you directly.” 

“ Tell her I’m busy.” 

“ I shall tell her nothing of the kind. You know she 
is very ill, and has not seen you yet, and now she wants 
to. So come along at once, like a good fellow.” 

“Youngster,” said Reginald, “it is a rule with me 
never to leave a young woman for an old one.” 

“ Not for your mother ? ” 

“No, nor my grandmother either.” 

“ Then you were born without a heart. But you shall 
come, whether you like it or not, though I have to drag 
you there by the throat.” 

“ Learn to spell 1 able ’ first.” 

“ I’ll spell it on your head if you don’t come.” 


448 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Oh, that is the game, young un, is it ? ” 

“Yes” 

“ Well, don’t let us have a shindy on the bricks; there 
is a nice little paddock outside. Come out there, and 
I’ll give you a lesson.” 

“Thank you; I don’t feel inclined to assist you in 
degrading our family.” 

“ Chaps that are afraid to fight shouldn’t threaten. 
Come now, the first knock-down blow shall settle it. If 
I win, you stay here and dance with us. If you win, I 
go to the old woman.” 

Compton consented, somewhat reluctantly; but, to do 
him justice, his reluctance arose entirely from his sense 
of relationship, and not from any fear of his senior. 

The young gentlemen took off their coats, and pro¬ 
ceeded to spar without any further ceremony. 

Reginald, whose agility was greater than his courage, 
danced about on the tips of his toes, and succeeded in 
planting a tap or two on Compton’s cheek. 

Compton smarted under these, and presently, in fol¬ 
lowing his antagonist, who fought like a shadow, he saw 
Ruperta and her mother looking horror-stricken over the 
palings. 

Infuriated with Reginald for this exposure, he rushed 
in at him, received a severe cut over the eye, but dealt 
him with his mighty Anglo-Saxon arm a full straight¬ 
forward smasher on the forehead, which knocked him 
head over heels like a ninepin. 

That active young man picked himself up wondrous 
slowly. Rheumatism seemed to have suddenly seized 
his well-oiled joints. He then addressed his antagonist 
in his most ingratiating tones : “ All right, sir,” said he. 
“You are the best man. I’ll go to the old lady this 
minute.” 

“ I’ll see you go,” said Compton, sternly; “ and mind, 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


449 


I can run as well as hit, so none of your gypsy tricks 
with me” 

Then he came sheepishly to the palings and said, “ It 
is not my fault, Miss Bassett; he would not come to 
mamma without, and she wants to speak to him.” 

“ Oh! he is hurt! he is wounded! ” cried Ruperta. 
“ Come here to me.” 

He came to her, and she pressed her white handker¬ 
chief tenderly on his eyebrow; it was bleeding a little. 

“Well, are you coming?” said Reginald, ironically; 
“ or do you like young women better than old ones ? ” 

Compton instantly drew back a little, made two steps, 
laid his hand on the palings, vaulted over, and followed 
Reginald. 

“That’s your boy” said Mrs. Bassett. 

Ruperta made no reply, but began to gulp. 

“ What is the matter, darling ? ” 

“ The fighting, the blood,” said Ruperta, sobbing. 

Mrs. Bassett drew her on one side, and soon soothed 
her. 

When their gentle bosoms got over their agitation, 
they rather enjoyed the thing, especially Ruperta; she 
detested Reginald for his character, and for having 
insulted her father. 

All of a sudden she cried out, “He has taken my 
handkerchief. How dare he ? ” And she affected anger. 

“Never mind, dear,” said Mrs. Bassett, coolly, “we 
have got his tippet.” 


29 


450 


A TEBR1BLE TEMPTATION. 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

Could any one have looked through the keyhole at 
Lady Bassett waiting for Reginald, he would have seen, 
by the very movements of her body, the terrible agita¬ 
tion of her mind. She rose, she sat down, she walked 
about with wild energy, she dropped on the sofa, and 
appeared to give it up as impossible; but, ere long, that 
deadly languor gave way to impatient restlessness again. 

At last, her quick ear heard a footstep in the corridor, 
accompanied by no rustle of petticoats; and yet the 
footstep was not Compton’s. 

Instantly she glanced with momentary terror towards 
the door. 

There was a tap. 

She sat down, and said with a tone from which all 
agitation was instantly banished, “ Come in.” 

The door opened, and the swarthy Reginald, diaboli¬ 
cally handsome, with his black snaky curls, entered the 
room. She rose from her chair, and fixed her great eyes 
on him, as if she would read him soul and body, before 
she ventured to speak. 

“Here I am, mamma; sorry to see you look so ill.” 

“ Thank you, my dear,” said Lady Bassett, without 
relaxing for a moment that searching gaze. 

She said, still covering him with her eye, “ Would you 
cure me, if you could ? ” 

To appreciate this opening, and Lady Bassett’s sweet 
engaging manner, you must understand that this young 
man was in her eyes a sort of black snake. Her flesh 
crept, with fear and repugnance, at the sight of him. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


451 


Yet that is how she received him, being a mother defend¬ 
ing her favorite son. 

“Of course I would,” said Reginald. “Just you tell 
me how.” 

Excellent words. But the lady’s calm infallible eye 
saw a cunning twinkle in those black twinkling orbs. 
Young as he was, he was on his guard, and waiting for 
her. Nor was this surprising. Reginald, naturally 
intelligent, had accumulated a large stock of low cun¬ 
ning in his travels and adventures with the gypsies, a 
smooth and cunning people. Lady Bassett’s fainting 
upon his return, his exclusion from her room, and one 
or two minor circumstances, had set him thinking. 

The moment she saw that look, Lady Bassett, with 
swift tact, glided away from the line she had intended 
to open, and, after merely thanking him, and saying, “ I 
believe you, dear,” though she did not believe him, she 
resumed, in a very impressive tone, “you see me worse 
than ever to-day, because my mind is in great trouble. 
The time is come when I must tell you a secret, which 
will cause you a bitter disappointment. Why I send for 
you is to see whether I cannot do something for you to 
make you happy, in spite of that cruel disappointment.” 

Not a word from Reginald. 

“Mr. Bassett, forgive me, if you can, for I am the 
most miserable woman in England; you are not the heir 
to this place: you are not Sir Charles Bassett’s son.” 

“What! ” shouted the young man. 

Her fortitude gave way for a moment. She shook her 
head in confirmation of what she had said, and hid her 
burning face and scalding tears in her white and wasted 
hands. 

There was a long silence. 

Reginald was asking himself if this could be true; or 
was it a manoeuvre to put her favorite Compton over his 
head? 


452 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Lady Bassett looked up, and saw this paltry suspicion 
in his face. She dried her tears directly, and went to a 
bureau, unlocked it, and produced the manuscript confes¬ 
sion she had prepared for her husband. 

She bade Reginald observe the superscription and the 
date. 

When he had done so, she took her scissors, and opened 
it for him. 

“ Read what I wrote to my beloved husband, at a time 
when I expected soon to appear before my Judge.” 

She then sank upon the sofa, and lay there like a log; 
only, from time to time, during the long reading, tears 
trickled from her eyes. 

Reginald read the whole story, and saw the facts must 
be true; more than that, being young, and a man, he 
could not entirely resist the charm of a narrative in 
which a lady told at full the love, the grief, the terror, 
the sufferings of her heart, and the terrible temptation 
under which she had gone astray. 

He laid it down at last, and drew a long breath. 

“ It’s a devil of a job for me,” said he; “ but I can’t 
blame you. You sold that Dick Bassett, and I hate him. 
But what is to become of me? ” 

“What I offer you is a life in which you will be 
happier than you ever could be at Huntercombe. I 
mean to buy you vast pasture fields in Australia, and 
cattle to feed. Those noble pastures will be bounded 
only by wild forests and hills. You will have swift 
horses to ride over your own domain, or to gallop hun¬ 
dreds of miles at a stretch, if you like. No confinement 
there ; no fences and boundaries; all as free as air. No 
monotony: one week you can dig for gold, another you 
can ride amongst your flocks, another you can hunt. All 
this in a climate so delightful that you can lie all night 
in the open air, without a blanket, under a new firma- 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


453 


ment of stars, not one of which illumines the dull nights 
of Europe.” 

The bait was too tempting. “ Well, you are the right 
sort! ” cried Reginald. 

But presently he began to doubt. “But all that will 
cost a lot of money.” 

“ It will; but I have a great deal of money.” 

Reginald thought, and said suspiciously, “ I don’t 
know why you should do all this for me.” 

“ Do you not ? What, when I have brought you into 
this family, and encouraged you in such vast expecta¬ 
tions, could I, in honor and common humanity, let you 
fall into poverty and neglect ? No. I have many thou¬ 
sand pounds, all my own, and you will have them all, 
and, perhaps, waste them all; but it will take you some 
time, because, whilst you are wasting, I shall be saving 
more for you.” 

Then there was a pause, each waiting for the other. 

Then Lady Bassett said quietly, and with great appar¬ 
ent composure, “ Of course there is a condition attached 
to all this.” 

“ What is that ? ” 

"I must receive from you a written paper, signed by 
yourself and by Mrs. Meyrick, acknowledging that you 
are not Sir Charles’s son, but distinctly pledging your¬ 
self to keep the secret so long as I continue to furnish you 
with the means of living. You hesitate. Is it not fair ? ” 

“ Well, it looks fair; but it is an awkward thing, sign¬ 
ing a paper of that sort.” 

“You doubt me, sir: you think that because I have 
told one great falsehood, from good but erring motives, 
I may break faith with you. Do not insult me with 
these doubts, sir. Try and understand that there are 
ladies and gentlemen in the world, though you prefer 
gypsies. Have you forgotten that night, when you laid 


454 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


me under so deep a debt, and I told you I never would 
forget it ? From that day was I not always your friend ? 
was I not always the one to make excuses for you ? ” 

Reginald assented to that. 

“ Then trust me. I pledge you my honor that I am 
this day the best friend you ever had, or ever can have. 
Refuse to sign that paper, and I shall soon be in my 
grave, leaving behind me my confession, and other evi¬ 
dence, on which you will be dismissed from this house 
with ignominy and without a farthing; for your best 
friend will be dead, and you will have killed her.” 

He looked at her full; he said, with a shade of com¬ 
punction, “ I am not a gentleman, but you are a lady. 
I’ll trust you. I’ll sign anything you like.” 

“That confidence becomes you,” said Lady Bassett; 
“and now I have no objection to show you I deserve it. 
Here is a letter to Mr. Rolfe, by which you may learn I 
have already placed three thousand pounds to his account, 
to be laid out by him for your benefit in Australia, where 
he has many confidential friends; and this is a check for 
five hundred pounds I drew in your favor yesterday. 
Do me the favor to take it.” 

He did her that favor, with sparkling eyes. 

“ Now, here is the paper I wish you to sign; but your 
signature will be of little value to me, without Mary 
Meyrick’s.” 

“ Oh, she will sign it directly: I have only to tell her.” 

“ Are you sure ? Men can be brought to take a dis¬ 
passionate view of their own interest; but women are 
not so wise. Take it, and try her. If she refuses, bring 
her to me directly. Do you understand ? Otherwise, in 
one fatal hour, her tongue will ruin you, and destroy me.” 

Impressed with these words, Reginald hurried to Mrs. 
Meyrick, and told her, in an off-hand way, she must sign 
that paper directly. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


455 


She looked at it, and turned very white; but went on 
her guard directly. 

“ Sign such a wicked lie as that ? ” said she. “ That 
I never will. You are his son, and Huntercombe shall 
be yours. She is an unnatural mother.” 

“Gammon!” said Reginald. “You might as well 
say a fox is the son of a gander. Come, now; I am not 
going to let you cut my throat with your tongue. Sign 
at once, or else come to her this moment, and tell her so.” 

“ That I will,” said Mary Meyrick, “ and give her my 
mind.” 

This doughty resolution was a little shaken when she 
cast eyes upon Lady Bassett, and saw how wan and worn 
she looked. 

She moderated her violence, and said sullenly, “ Sorry 
to gainsay you, my lady, and you so ill j but this is a 
paper I never can sign. It would rob him of Hunter¬ 
combe. I’d sooner cut my hand off at the wrist.” 

“ Nonsense, Mary! ” said Lady Bassett contemptuously. 

She then proceeded to reason with her; but it was no 
use. Mary would not listen to reason, and defied her at 
last in a loud voice. 

“ Very well,” said Lady Bassett. “ Then, since you 
will not do it my way, it shall be done another way. I 
shall put my confession in Sir Charles’s hands, and insist 
on his dismissing him from the house, and you from your 
farm. It will kill me, and the money I intended for 
Reginald I shall leave to Compton.” 

“ These are idle words, my lady; you daren’t.” 

“ I dare anything, when once I make up my mind to die.” 

She rang the bell. 

Meyrick affected contempt. 

A servant came to the door. 

“ Request Sir Charles to come to me immediately.” 


456 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


* 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

Don’t you be a fool/’ said Reginald to his nurse. 

“ Sir Charles will send you to prison for it,” said Lady 
Bassett. 

“ For what I done along with you ? ” 

“ Oh, he will not punish his wife! He will look out 
for some other victim.” 

“Sign, you d-d old fool! ” cried Reginald, seizing 

Mary Meyrick roughly by the arm. 

Strange to say, Lady Bassett interfered, with a sort of 
majestic horror. She held up her hand, and said, — 

“ Do not dare to lay a finger on her ! ” 

Then Mary burst into tears, and said she would sign 
the paper. 

Whilst she was signing it, Sir Charles’s step was heard 
in the corridor. 

He knocked at the door just as she signed it. Reginald 
had signed already. 

Lady Bassett put the paper into the manuscript book, 
and the book into the bureau, and said, “ Come in,” with 
an appearance of composure belied by her beating heart. 

“Here is Mrs. Meyrick, my dear.” 

In those few seconds, so perfect a liar as Mary Mey¬ 
rick had quite recovered herself. 

“ If you please, sir,” said she, “ I be come to ast if you 
will give us a new lease, for ourn it is run out.” 

“ You had better talk to the steward about that.” 

“Very well, sir,” and she made her courtesy. 

Reginald remained, not knowing exactly what to do. 

“ My dear,” said Lady Bassett, “ Reginald has come to 



A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


457 


bid me good-by. He is going to visit Mr. Rolfe, and 
take his advice, if you have no objection.” 

“None whatever; and I hope he will treat it with 
more respect than he does mine.” 

Reginald shrugged his shoulders, and was going out, 
when Lady Bassett said, — 

“Won’t you kiss me, Reginald, as you are going away ? ” 

He came to her: she kissed him, and whispered in his 
ear, “ Be true to me, as I will be to you.” 

Then he left her, and she felt like a dead thing, with 
exhaustion. She lay on the sofa, and Sir Charles sat 
beside her, and made her drink a glass of wine. 

She lay very still that afternoon; but at night she 
slept: a load was off her mind for the present. 

Next day she was so much better, she came down to 
dinner. 

What she now hoped was that entire separation, coupled 
with the memory of the boy’s misdeeds, would cure Sir 
Charles entirely of his affection for Reginald; and so 
that, after about twenty years more of conjugal fidelity, 
she might find courage to reveal to her husband the fault 
of her youth, at a time when all its good results remained 
to help excuse it, and all its bad results had vanished. 

Such was the plan this extraordinary woman con¬ 
ceived, and its success so far had a wonderful effect on 
her health. 

But a couple of days passed, and she did not hear 
either from Reginald or Mr. Rolfe. That made her a 
little anxious. 

On the third day Compton asked her, with an angry 
flush on his brow, whether she had not sent Reginald 
up to London. 

“Yes, dear,” said Lady Bassett. 

“ Well, he is not gone then.” 

“Oh!” 


458 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ He is living at his nurse’s. I saw him talking to an 
old gypsy that lives on the farm.” 

Lady Bassett groaned, but said nothing. 

“Never mind, mamma,” said Compton. “Your other 
children must love you all the more.” 

This news caused Lady Bassett both anxiety and terror. 
She divined bad faith, and all manner of treachery, none 
the less terrible for being vague. 

Down went her health again, and her short-lived repose. 

Meantime Reginald, in reality, was staying at the farm 
on a little business of his own. 

He had concerted an expedition with the foreign gent, 
and was waiting for a dark and gusty night. 

He had undertaken this expedition with mixed motives, 
spite and greed, especially the latter. He would never 
have undertaken it with a five-hundred-pound check in 
his pocket; but some minds are so constituted, they can¬ 
not forego a bad design once formed, so Mr. Reginald 
persisted, though one great motive existed no longer. 

On this expedition it is now our lot to accompany him. 

The night was favorable, and at about two o’clock 
Reginald and the foreign gent stood under Richard 
Bassett’s dining-room window, with crape over their eyes, 
noses, and mouths, and all manner of unlawful imple¬ 
ments in their pockets. 

The foreign gent prized the shutters open with a little 
crowbar; he then, with a glazier’s diamond, soon cut out 
a small pane, inserted a cunning hand, and opened the 
window. 

Then Reginald gave him a leg, and he got into the 
room. 

The agile youth followed him without assistance. 

They lighted a sort of bull’s-eye, and poured the con¬ 
centrated light on the cupboard door, behind which lay 
the treasure of glorious old plate. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


459 


Then the foreign gent produced his skeleton keys, and 
after several ineffective trials opened the door softly, 
and revealed the glittering booty. 

At the sight of it, the foreign gent could not suppress 
an ejaculation; but the younger one clapped his hand 
before his mouth hurriedly. 

The foreign gent unrolled a sort of green-baize apron 
he had around him; it was, in reality, a bag. 

Into this receptacle the pair conveyed one piece of 
plate after another, with surprising dexterity, rapidity, 
and noiselessness. When it was full, they began to fill 
the deep pockets of their shooting-jackets. 

While thus employed, they heard a rapid footstep, and 
Bichard Bassett opened the door. He was in his trousers 
and shirt, and had a pistol in his hand. 

At sight of him Beginald uttered a cry of dismay; the 
foreign gent blew out the light. 

Bichard Bassett, among whose faults want of personal 
courage was not one, rushed forward, and collared 
Beginald. 

But the foreign gent had raised the crowbar to defend 
himself, and struck him a blow on the head that made 
him stagger back. 

The foreign gent seized this opportunity, and ran at 
once at the window, and jumped at it. 

If Beginald had been first, he would have gone through 
like a cat, but the foreign gent, older, and obstructed by 
the contents of his pockets, higgled, and stuck a few 
seconds in the window. 

That brief delay was fatal; Bichard Bassett levelled 
his pistol deliberately at him, fired, and sent a ball 
through his shoulder; he fell, like a log, upon the ground 
outside. 

Bichard then levelled another barrel at Beginald, but 
he howled out for quarter, and was immediately captured, 


460 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


and, with the assistance of the brave Jessie, who now 
came boldly to her master’s aid, his hands were tied 
behind him, and he was made prisoner, with the stolen 
articles in his pocket. 

When they were tying him, he whimpered, and said 
it was only a lark; he never meant to keep anything. 
He offered a hundred pounds down if they would let 
him off. 

But there was no mercy for him. 

Bichard Bassett had a candle lighted, and inspected 
the prisoner. He lifted his crape veil, and said, “ Oho! ” 

“You see it was only a lark,” said Beginald, and shook 
in every limb. 

Bichard Bassett smiled grimly, and said nothing. He 
gave Jessie strict orders to hold her tongue, and she and 
he between them took Beginald and locked him up in a 
small room adjoining the kitchen. 

Then they went to look for the other burglar. 

He had emptied his pockets of all the plate and 
crawled away. It is supposed he threw away the plate, 
either to soften Beginald’s offence, or in the belief that 
he had received his death-wound, and should not require 
silver vessels where he was going. 

Bassett picked up the articles and brought them in, 
and told Jessie to light the fire and make him a cup of 
coffee. 

He replaced all the plate except the articles left in 
Beginald’s pocket. 

Then he went up-stairs and told his wife that burglars 
had broken into the house, but had taken nothing; she 
was to give herself no anxiety. He told her no more 
than this, for his dark and cruel nature had already con¬ 
ceived an idea he did not care to communicate to her, on 
account of the strong opposition he foresaw from so good 
a Christian; besides, of late, since her daughter came 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


461 


home to back her, she had spoken her mind more than 
once. 

He kept them in the dark, and went down-stairs again 
to his coffee. 

He sat and sipped it, and, with it, his coming vengeance. 

All the defeats and mortifications he had endured from 
Huntercombe returned to his mind; and now, with one 
master-stroke, he would balance them all. 

Yet he felt a little compunction. 

Active hostilities had ceased for many years. 

Lady Bassett, at all events, had held out the hand to 
his wife. The blow he meditated was very cruel; would 
not his wife and daughter say it was barbarous ? Would 
not his own heart, the heart of a father, reproach him 
afterwards ? 

These misgivings, that would have restrained a less 
obstinate man, irritated Bichard Bassett; he went in a 
rage, and said, aloud, “I must do it; I will do it, come 
what may.” 

He told Jessie he valued her much; she should have 
a black silk gown for her courage and fidelity; but she 
must not be faithful by halves; she must not breathe 
one word to any soul in the house that the burglar was 
there under lock and key; if she did, he should turn her 
out of the house that moment. 

“ Hets ! ” said the woman, “ dey ye think I canna haud 
my whisht, when the maister bids me ? I’m nae great 
dasher at ony time for my pairt.” 

At seven o’clock in the morning he sent a note to Sir 
Charles Bassett, to say that his house had been attacked 
last night by two armed burglars; he and his people had 
captured one, and wished to take him before a magistrate 
at once, since his house was not a fit place to hold him 
secure. He concluded Sir Charles would not refuse him 
the benefit of the law, however obnoxious he might be. 


462 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


Sir Charles’s lip curled with contempt at the man who 
was not ashamed to put such a doubt on paper. 

However, he wrote back a civil line, to say that of 
course he was at Mr. Bassett’s service, and would be in 
his justice-room at nine o’clock. 

Meantime Mr. Bichard Bassett went for the constable 
and an assistant; but, even to them, he would not say 
precisely what he wanted them for. 

His plan was to march an unknown burglar, with his 
crape on his face, into Sir Charles’s study, give his evi¬ 
dence, and then reveal the son to the father. 

Jessie managed to hold her tongue for an hour or two, 
and nothing occurred at Highmore, or in Huntercombe, 
to interfere with Bichard Bassett’s barbarous revenge. 

Meantime, however, something remarkable had oc¬ 
curred, at the distance of a mile and a quarter. 

Mrs. Meyrick breakfasted habitually at eight o’clock. 

Beginald did not appear. 

Mrs. Meyrick went to his room and satisfied herself 
he had not passed the night there. 

Then she went to the foreign gent’s shed. 

He was not there. 

Then she went out and called loudly to them both. 

Ho answer. 

Then she went into the nearest meadow to see if they 
were in sight. 

The first thing she saw was the foreign gent stagger¬ 
ing towards her. 

“ Drunk ! ” said she, and went to scold him; but, when 
she got nearer, she saw at once that something very 
serious had happened. His dark face was bloodless and 
awful, and he could hardly drag his limbs along; indeed, 
they had failed him a score of times between Highmore 
and that place. 

Just as she came up with him, he sank once more to 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


463 


the ground, and turned up two despairing eyes towards 
her. 

“ Oh, daddy! what is it ? Where’s Eeginald ? What¬ 
ever have they done to you ? ” 

“ Brandy! ” groaned the wounded man. 

She flew into the house, and returned in a moment 
with a bottle. She put it to his lips. 

He revived, and told her all, in a few words. 

“ The young bloke and I went to crack a crib. I’m 
shot with a bullet. Hide me in that loose hay there; 
leave me the bottle, and let nobody come nigh me. The 
beak will be after me very soon.” 

Then Mrs. Meyrick, being a very strong woman, 
dragged him to the haystack, and covered him with 
loose hay. 

“Now,” said she, trembling, “ where’s my boy ? ” 

“He’s nabbed.” 

« Oh! ” 

“ And he’ll be lagged, unless you can beg him off.” 

Mary Meyrick uttered a piercing scream. 

“You wretch! to tempt my boy to this. And him 
with five hundred pounds in his pocket and my lady’s 
favor. Oh, why did we not keep our word with her ? 
She was the wisest and our best friend. But it is all 
your doing; you are the devil that tempted him, you 
old villain! ” 

“ Don’t miscall me,” said the gypsy. 

“Not miscall you, when you have run away and left 
them to take my boy to jail. No word is bad enough 
for you, you villain ! ” 

« I’m your father — and a dijing man,” said the old 
gypsy calmly, and folded his hands upon his breast with 
Oriental composure and decency. 

The woman threw herself on her knees. “Forgive 
me, father — tell me, where is he ? ” 


464 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Highmore House.” 

At that simple word her eyes dilated with wild hor¬ 
ror ; she uttered a loud scream, and flew into the house. 

In five minutes she was on her way to Highmore. 

She reached that house, knocked hastily at the door, 
and said she must see Mr. Bichard Bassett that moment. 

“ He is just gone out,” said the maid. 

“ Where to ? ” 

The girl knew her, and began to gossip. “ Why, to 
Huntercombe Hall. “What, haven’t you heard, Mrs. 
Meyrick ? Master caught a robber last night. Laws, 
you should have seen him — he have got crape all over 
his face; and master, and the constable, and Mr. Mus¬ 
ters, they be all gone with him to Sir Charles, for to 

have him committed — the villain- Why, what ails 

the woman ? ” 

For Mary Meyrick turned her back on the speaker, 
and rushed away in a moment. 

She went through the kitchen at Huntercombe; she 
was so well known there, nobody objected. She flew 
up the stairs and into Lady Bassett’s bedroom. 

“ Oh, my lady ! my lady ! ” 

Lady Bassett screamed at her sudden entrance, and 
wild appearance. 

Mary Meyrick told her all in a few wild words. She 
wrung her hands with a great fear. 

“ It’s no time for that,” cried Mary fiercely. “ Come 
down this moment and save him.” 

“ How can I ? ” 

“You must. You shall!” cried the other. “Don’t 
ask me how. Don’t sit wringing your hands, woman. 
If you are not there in five minutes, to save him, I’ll 
tell all.” 

“ Have mercy on me,” cried Lady Bassett. “ I gave 
him money, I sent him away. It’s not my fault.” 



A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


465 


“No matter; he must be saved, or I’ll ruin you. I 
can’t stay here; I must be there, and so must you.” 

She rushed down the stairs, and tried to get into the 
justice-room; but admission was refused her. 

Then she gave a sort of wild snarl, and ran round to 
the small room adjoining the justice-room. Through 
this she penetrated, and entered the justice-room. 

But not in time to prevent the evidence from being 
laid before Sir Charles. 

What took place in the meantime was briefly this. 
The prisoner, handcuffed now instead of tied, was intro¬ 
duced between the constable and his assistant; the door 
was locked, and Sir Charles received Mr. Bassett with a 
ceremonious bow, seated himself, and begged Mr. Bas¬ 
sett to be seated. 

“ Thank you,” said Mr. Bassett: but did not seat him¬ 
self. 'He stood before the prisoner, and gave his evi¬ 
dence ; during which the prisoner’s knees were seen to 
knock together with terror; he was a young man fit for 
folly, but not for felony. 

Said Bichard Bassett, “ I have a cupboard containing 
family plate. It is valuable, and some years ago I 
passed a piece of catgut from the door, through the 
ceiling to a bell at my bedside. 

“Very late last night the bell sounded. I flung on my 
trousers, and went down with a pistol. I caught two 
burglars in the act of rifling the cupboard. I went to 
collar one ; he struck me on the head with a crowbar — 
constable, show the crowbar — I staggered, but recov¬ 
ered myself, and fired at one of the burglars — he was 
just struggling through the window. He fell, and I 
thought he was dead: but he got away. I secured the 
other, and here he is — just as he was when I took him. 
Constable, search his pockets.” 

The constable did so, and produced therefrom sev- 
30 


466 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


eral pieces of silver plate stamped with the Bassett 
arms. 

“My servant here can confirm this,” added Mr. Bassett. 

“ It is not necessary here,” said Sir Charles. Then to 
the criminal, “ Have you anything to say ? ” 

“ It was only a lark,” quavered the poor wretch. 

“ I would not advise you to say that, where you are 
going.” 

He then, while writing out the warrant, said as a mat¬ 
ter of course, “ Bemove his mask.” 

The constable lifted it, and started back, with a shout 
of dismay and surprise ; Jessie screamed. 

Sir Charles looked up, and saw in the burglar he was 
committing for trial, his first-born, the heir to his house 
and his lands. 

The pen fell from Sir Charles’s fingers, and he stared 
at the wan face, and wild imploring eyes that stared at 
him. 

He stared at the lad, and then put his hand to his 
heart, and that heart seemed to die within him. 

There was a silence, and a horror fell on all. Even 
Bichard Bassett quailed at what he had done. 

“ Ah! cruel man ! cruel man! ” moaned the broken 
father. “God judge you for this — as now I must judge 
my unhappy son. Mr. Bassett, it matters little to you 
what magistrate commits you, and I must keep my oath. 
I am — going — to set you an — example, by signing a 
warrant ”- 

“No, no, no !” cried a woman’s voice, and Mary Mey- 
rick rushed into the room. 

Every person there thought he knew Mary Meyrick; 
yet she was like a stranger to them now. There was 
that in her heart, at that awful moment, which trans¬ 
figured a handsome but vulgar woman into a superior 
being. Her cheek was pale, her black eyes large, and 



A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


467 


her mellow voice had a magic power. “ You don’t know 
what you are doing,” she cried. “ Go no farther, or you 
will all curse the hand that harmed a hair of his head; 
you, most of all, Richard Bassett.” 

Sir Charles, in any other case, would have sent her 
out of the room; but, in his misery, he caught at the 
straw. 

“ Speak out, woman,” he said, “ and save the wretched 
boy, if you can. I see no way.” 

“ There are things it is not fit to speak before all the 
world. Bid those men go, and I’ll open your eyes that 
stay.” 

Then Richard Bassett foresaw another triumph; so he 
told the constable and his man they had better retire for 
a few minutes, “ while,” said he, with a sneer, “ these 
wonderful revelations are being made.” 

When they were gone, Mary turned to Richard Bassett, 
and said, “ Why do you want him sent to prison ? to 
spite Sir Charles here, to stab his heart through his 
son.” 

Sir Charles groaned aloud. 

The woman heard, and thought of many things. She 
flung herself on her knees, and seized his hand. “ Don’t 
you cry, my dear old master, mine is the only heart shall 
bleed. He is not your son.” 

“ What! ” cried Sir Charles, in a terrible voice. 

“That is no news to me,” said Richard. “He is more 
like the parson than Sir Charles Bassett.” 

“ For shame! for shame ! ” cried Mary Meyrick. “ Oh, 
it becomes you to give fathers to children — when you 
don’t know your own flesh and blood. He is your son, 
Richard Bassett.” 

“ My son! ” roared Bassett in utter amazement. 

“ Ay. I should know, for I am his mother.” 

This astonishing statement was uttered with all the 


468 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


majesty of truth; and when she said “ I am his mother/’ 
the voice turned tender all in a moment. 

They were all paralyzed, and, absorbed in this strange 
revelation, did not hear a tottering footstep: a woman 
pale as a corpse, and with eyes glaring large, stood 
amongst them, all in a moment, as if a ghost had risen 
from the earth. 

It was Lady Bassett. 

At sight of her, Sir Charles awoke from the confusion 
and amazement into which Mary had thrown him, and 
said, “ Ah! —Bella, do you hear what she says — that he 
is not our son ? What, then, have you agreed with your 
servant to deceive your husband ? ” 

Lady Bassett gasped and tried to speak; but, before 
the words would come, the sight of her corpse-like face 
and miserable agony moved Mary Wells, and she snatched 
the words out of her mouth. 

“What is the use questioning her? She knows no 
more than you do. I done it all: and done it for 
the best. My lady’s child died; I hid that from her, 
for I knew it would kill her and keep you in a mad¬ 
house. I done for the best; I put my live child by her 
side, and she knew no better. As time went on, and the 
boy so dark, she suspected; but know it she couldn’t 
till now. My lady, I am his mother, and there stands 
his cruel father—cruel to me and cruel to him. But 
don’t you dare to harm him ! I’ve got all your letters, 
promising me marriage. I’ll take them to your wife and 
daughter, and they shall know it is your own flesh and 
blood you are sending to prison. Oh, I am mad to 
threaten him! My darling, speak him fair; he is your 
father; he may have a bit of nature in his heart some¬ 
where, though I could never find it.” 

The young man put his hands together, like an Orien¬ 
tal. and said. “Forgive me;” then sank at Richard 
Bassett’s knees. 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


469 


Then Sir Charles, himself much shaken, took his wife’s 
arm, and led her, trembling like an aspen leaf, from the 
room. 

Perhaps the prayers of Reginald, and the tears of his 
mother, would alone have sufficed to soften Richard 
Bassett; but the threat of exposure to his wife and 
daughter did no harm. The three sqon came to terms. 

Reginald to be liberated, on condition of going to 
London by the next train, and never setting his foot in 
that parish again. His mother to go with him, and see 
him off to Australia. She solemnly pledged herself not 
to reveal the boy’s real parentage to any other soul in the 
world. 

This being settled, Bichard Bassett called the consta¬ 
ble in, and said the young gentleman had satisfied him 
that it was a practical joke, though a very dangerous one, 
and he withdrew the charge of felony. 

The constable said he must have Sir Charles’s authority 
for that. 

A message was sent to Sir Charles. He came. The 
prisoner was released; and Mary Meyrick took his arm 
sharply, as much as to say, “Out of my hands you go no 
more.” 

Before they left the room, Sir Charles, who was now 
master of himself, said, with deep feeling, — 

“My poor boy, you can never be a stranger to me. 
The affection of years cannot be untied in a moment. 
You see now how folly glides into crime, and crime into 
punishment. Take this to heart, and never again stray 
from the paths of honor. Lead an honorable life; and, 
if you do, write to me as if I was still your father.” 

They retired, but Bichard Bassett lingered and hung 
his head. 

Sir Charles wondered what this inveterate foe could 
have to say now. 


470 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


At last Richard said, half sullenly, yet with a touch 
of compunction: “ Sir Charles, you have been more gen¬ 
erous than I was. You have laid me under an obliga¬ 
tion.” 

Sir Charles bowed loftily. 

“ You would double that obligation, if you would pre¬ 
vail on Lady Bassett to keep that old folly of mine 
secret from my wife and daughter. I am truly ashamed 
of it; and, whatever my own faults may have been, they 
love and respect me.” 

“Mr. Bassett,” said Sir Charles, “my son Compton 
must be told that he is my heir; but no details injurious 
to you shall transpire. You may count on absolute 
secrecy from Lady Bassett and myself.” 

“Sir Charles,” said Richard Bassett, faltering for a 
moment, “ I am very much obliged to you, and I begin 
to be sorry we are enemies. Good-morning.” 

The agitation and terror of this scene nearly killed 
Lady Bassett on the spot. She lay all that day in a state 
of utter prostration. 

Meantime, Sir Charles put this and that together, but 
said nothing. He spoke cheerfully and philosophically 
to his wife — said it had been a fearful blow, terrible 
wrench; but it was all for the best. Such a son as that 
would have broken his heart before long. 

“ Ah! but your wasted affections! ” groaned Lady 
Bassett, and her tears streamed at the thought. 

Sir Charles sighed; but said, after a while: “ Is affec¬ 
tion ever entirely wasted ? My love for that young fool 
enlarged my heart. There was a time he did me a deal 
of good.” 

But next day, having only herself to think of now, 
Lady Bassett could live no longer under the load of 
deceit. She told Sir Charles, Mary Meyrick had de¬ 
ceived him. “ Read this,” she said, “ and see what your 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 471 

miserable wife bas done, wbo loved you to madness and 
crime.” 

Sir Charles looked at her, and saw, in her wasted 
form and her face, that if he did read it he should kill 
her; so he played the man: he restrained himself by a 
mighty effort, and said: “ My dear, excuse me; but on 
this matter I have more faith in Mary Meyrick’s exact¬ 
ness than in yours. Besides, I know your heart, and 
don’t care to be told of your errors in judgment—no, 
not even by yourself. Sorry to offend an authoress, but 
I decline to read your book; and, more than that, I 
forbid you the subject entirely for the next thirty years, 
at least. Let bygones be bygones.” 

That eventful evening, Mr. Rutland called, and pro¬ 
posed to Ruperta. She declined politely but firmly. 

She told Mrs. Bassett, and Mrs. Bassett told Richard 
in a nervous way; but his answer surprised her. He 
said he was very glad of it; Ruperta could do better. 

Mrs. Bassett could not resist the pleasure of telling 
Lady Bassett. She went over on purpose, with her 
husband’s consent. 

Lady Bassett asked to see Ruperta. 

“ By all means,” said Richard Bassett graciously. 

On her return to Highmore, Ruperta asked leave to go 
to the Hall every day, and nurse Lady Bassett. “ They 
will let her die else,” said she. 

Richard Bassett assented to that too. 

Ruperta, for some weeks, almost lived at the Hall, and, 
in this emergency, revealed great qualities. As the 
malevolent small-pox, passing through the gentle cow, 
comes out the sovereign cow-pox, so, in this gracious 
nature, her father’s vices turned to their kindred vir¬ 
tues : his obstinacy of purpose shone here a noble con¬ 
stancy; his audacity became candor, and his cunning 
wisdom. Her intelligence saw at once that Lady Bassett 


472 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


was pining to death, and a weak-minded nurse would be 
fatal. She was all smiles and brightness, and neglected 
no means to encourage her patient. 

With this view, she promised to plight her faith to 
Compton the moment Lady Bassett should be restored 
to health; and so, with hopes and smiles, and the 
novelty of a daughter’s love, she fought with death 
for Lady Bassett, and, at last, she won the desperate 
battle. 

This did Bichard Bassett’s daughter, for her father’s 
late enemy. 

The grateful husband wrote to Bassett, and now 
acknowledged his obligation. 

A civil, mock-modest reply from Bichard Bassett. 

From this things went on step by step, till, at last, 
Compton and Buperta, at eighteen years of age, were 
formally betrothed. 

Thus the children’s love wore out the fathers’ hate. 

That love, so troubled at the outset, left, by degrees, 
the region of romance, and rippled smoothly through 
green, flowery meadows. 

Buperta showed her lover one more phase of girlhood. 
She who had been a precocious and forward child, and 
then a shy and silent girl, came out now a bright 
and witty young woman, full of vivacity, modesty, and 
sensibility. 

Time cured Compton of his one defect. Buperta 
stopped growing at fifteen, but Compton went slowly on, 
caught her at seventeen, and at nineteen had passed her 
by a head. He won a scholarship at Oxford, he rowed 
in college races, and, at last, in the University race on 
the Thames. 

Buperta stood in peerless beauty, dark blue from 
throat to feet, and saw his boat astern of his rival, 
saw it come up with, and creep ahead, amidst the roars 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


473 


of the multitude. When she saw her lover with bare 
corded arms as brown as a berry, and set teeth, filling 
his glorious part in that manly struggle within eight 
yards of her, she confessed he was not a boy now. 

But Lady Bassett accepted no such evidence. Being 
pestered to let them marry at twenty years of age, she 
clogged her consent with one condition. They must live 
three years at Huntercombe as man and wife. 

“No boy of twenty,” said she, “can understand a 
young woman of that age. I must be in the house to 
prevent a single misunderstanding between my beloved 
children.” 

The young people, who both adored her, voted the con¬ 
dition reasonable. They were married, and a wing of 
the spacious building allotted to them. 

For their sakes let us hope that their wedded life, 
now happily commenced, will furnish me no materials 
for another tale: the happiest lives are uneventful. 

The foreign gent recovered his wound, but acquired 
rheumatism, and a dislike for midnight expeditions. 

Reginald galloped a year or two over seven hundred 
miles of colony, sowing his wild oats as he flew, but is 
now a prosperous squatter, very fond of sleeping in the 
open air. England was not big enough for the bold 
Bohemian. He does very 'well where he is. 

Old Meyrick died, and left his wife a little estate in 
the next county. Drake asked her hand at the funeral. 
She married him in six months, and migrated to the 
estate in question; for Sir Charles refused her a lease 
of his farm, not choosing to have her near him. 

Her new abode was in the next parish to her sister’s. 

La Marsh set herself to convert Mary, and often 
exhorted her to penitence. She bore this pretty well for 
some time, being overawed by old reminiscences of 
sisterly superiority, but at last her vanity rebelled. 


474 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


“ Eepent! and repent! ” cried she. “ Why, you be like 
a cuckoo, all in one song. One would think I had been 
and robbed a church. ’Tis all very well for you to 
repent, as led a fastish life at starting; but I never done 
nothing as I’m ashamed on.” 

Richard Bassett said one day to Wheeler, “ Old fel¬ 
low, there is not a worse poison than Hate. It has 
made me old before my time. And what does it all 
come to? We might just as well have kept quiet, for 
my grandson will inherit Huntercombe and Bassett after 
all.” 

“ Thanks to the girl you would not ring the bells for.” 

Sir Charles and Lady Bassett lead a peaceful life after 
all their troubles, and renew their youth in their chil¬ 
dren, of whom Ruperta is one, and as dear as any. 

Yet their is a pensive and humble air about Lady 
Bassett, which shows she still expiates her fault, though 
she knows it will always be ignored by him for whose 
sake she sinned. 

In summing her up, it may be as well to compare this 
with the unmixed self-complacency of Mrs. Drake. 

You men and women who judge this Bella Bassett, be 
firm — and do not let her amiable qualities or her good 
intentions blind you in a plain matter of right and 
wrong. Be charitable — and ask yourselves how often 
in your lives you have seen yourselves, or any other 
human being, resist a terrible temptation. 

My experience is that we resist other people’s tempta¬ 
tions nobly, and succumb to our own. 

So let me end with a line of England’s gentlest 
satirist: 

“ Heaven be merciful to us all, sinners as we be.” 


A TERRIBLE TEMPTATION. 


475 


NOTE. 


When this book was first published, some vague 
though offensive strictures were passed on it, which I 
hardly understood, not being a foolometer. However, 
I am now informed that there are human creatures 
who can read every page of this book, yet conclude 
that the “terrible temptation” to Lady Bassett was — 
to break the Seventh Commandment. 

How, that may be a temptation to many of my fair 
readers, and to many heroines of novels; but it is not 
a temptation at all to a chaste woman passionately in 
love with her husband. Such a woman is Lady Bassett 
in every line of this book; and, of course, the strange 
and rare temptation she long resists, but finally suc¬ 
cumbs under, is her “terrible temptation.” And a 
vulgar commonplace temptation she does not yield to, 
but spurns with easy contempt, is not my “terrible 
temptation,” nor hers. 

Should the business of reading my works ever be 
conducted with one-thousandth part of the attention 
I bestow on writing them, my readers will discover 
that there is more real invention in “ A Terrible Tempta¬ 
tion ” than in most of my stories, and that it deserves 
a high place amongst them at all events. 






























































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